The car skidded to a stop, and the driver jumped out, racing to the motionless figure on the road. He knelt beside her, breathless, his heart pounding as he recognized the face.
"Chantel?" he whispered, stunned. It was her—his childhood friend, the girl he never forgot.
Her eyes fluttered open, barely focusing. He scooped her up gently, rushing to his car. "Hang on, please," he murmured as he sped to the hospital, heart hammering with fear and disbelief.
In the sterile waiting room, Henry paced, hands shaking, eyes darting between the clock and the double doors to the emergency room. Seconds felt like hours, the memory of her lifeless form burned into his mind.
The doors opened, and a doctor approached, expression calm but serious. "Are you here for Ms. Chantel?"
Henry rushed over. "Is she... is she okay?" he asked, voice tight with worry.
The doctor nodded. "She's stable. And... the babies are fine."
Henry's eyes widened. "Babies?" He blinked, staggered by the news. Chantel was pregnant? A strange cocktail of shock, relief, and confusion flooded him. He turned back to the doctor. "Can I see her?"
The doctor nodded. "She's awake. Go ahead."
Henry moved quickly down the hallway, breath caught in his chest as he entered her room. There, lying in the hospital bed, was Chantel—pale, fragile, yet unmistakably her.
"Chantel?" he called softly.
Her eyes opened slowly, disoriented, and she looked up at him with a weak gaze. "Who... who are you?"
Henry felt his heart twist. He pulled a chair up beside her, sitting down close. "It's me, Henry," he said gently. "You might not remember, but… I could never forget you."
She blinked, processing. A flash of recognition crossed her face. "Henry?" Her voice was soft, a whisper filled with wonder and sadness. Tears brimmed in her eyes. "I… I didn't think I'd ever see you again."
He reached for her hand, his own emotions threatening to break free. "I looked everywhere for you, Chantel. When I came back from the U.K., I went to your house. Your stepmother said you'd… run away."
Chantel's lips trembled. She looked down, fighting tears. "I… didn't think I'd ever see you either." She paused, emotions bubbling to the surface. "Life just… it was so hard, Henry."
Henry's fingers tightened on hers, grounding her. "Tell me what happened," he said softly. "Please."
She took a shaky breath. "After you left, things got worse at home. My stepmother threw me out. She told my father I ran away with someone. I had no one."
Henry's jaw tightened, fury flashing in his eyes. "Did he… did your father believe her?"
"He was out of the country," she explained. "By the time he got back, she'd poisoned his mind. I had no choice—I ended up working for the Smith family as a maid."
Henry looked at her, pained. "Why didn't you reach out to me, Chantel? I would've helped you."
"I… didn't know how to find you," she said quietly, wiping a stray tear. "And even if I did, I didn't want to burden you. I thought I could handle things on my own." She paused, voice quivering. "But then… the Smiths, they… they wanted to take my babies."
Henry's eyes narrowed. "Take your babies?"
"They offered to help when I found out I was pregnant," she explained, voice barely a whisper. "But I soon realized they just wanted to adopt them. I couldn't let that happen, so I ran. And that's when… your car hit me."
Henry took a deep, shuddering breath, emotions raw in his chest. "You're safe now," he said firmly, squeezing her hand. "No one will take them from you. You can stay with me as long as you need."
She looked at him with relief, nodding slowly. "Thank you, Henry. I… I don't know what I'd do without you."
Just then, a nurse came in to check her vitals. "She's recovering well," she smiled. "You'll be discharged today, but remember to take it easy."
Henry nodded, and as the nurse left, he turned back to Chantel. "One step at a time," he said softly, reassuring her. "I'm not going anywhere."
A faint smile crossed her face, gratitude shining through her exhaustion. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of shared history settling between them. Finally, Henry broke the quiet.
"Chantel," he began, voice gentle. "Do you… do you remember the old treehouse?"
She laughed softly, despite herself. "Of course. How could I forget? We practically lived there."
Henry smiled, the memory warming him. "It's still there, you know. Hidden behind all the branches. I found it just last week."
Chantel's eyes sparkled, a glimpse of the girl he once knew shining through. "You think we could… fix it up?"
He chuckled. "Why not? Some things are worth fixing, right?"
She nodded, eyes filled with emotion. "Yeah. Some things are."