The Triumph of Single Ladies

Julian swallowed and zoomed in on the photo. Her face filled the screen. He studied it closely, and he smirked.

"Looking forward to seeing you soon, Channel," he murmured under his breath. "You must be important to him."

He locked his phone and set it face-down on the table. His eyes returned to the door, waiting patient for her arrival.

The night went on with music pounding and people dancing, while Julian waited for the girl who didn't know she was already listed in the book of danger.

Meanwhile, Maverick Cruz was in his apartment, lit only by the small lamp standing on the table. He sat on the edge of his couch with elbows on his knees. The room was quiet, yet in his head he could still hear the same old voice.

His father's voice.

"Your mother is dead, Maverick. She's not coming back. Forget her."

Maverick closed his eyes. The memory stabbed him in the heart like it always did. He remembered himself as a small boy, crying until his throat hurt, waiting by the door every night.

Waiting for a woman who never walked in.

He swallowed hard, forcing the tears back down. He hadn't cried since he was a kid.

"She could have said goodbye," he muttered under his breath. "I could have at least seen her body."

Damian Cruz was dead now; killed in a police chase seven years ago. Maverick had buried him, but he wasn't convinced with his father's death. He was looking for answers, he believed someone in their circle had betrayed Damian to the police.

He leaned back and grabbed his phone from the table. His thumb slid across the screen until Channel Holland's picture appeared again.

She was smiling, and she looked beautiful. But one thing stood out to him; she had Damian's eyes. Damian's jaw, and she looked just like him.

Maverick stared at the photo for a long moment.

"How can you look like him?" he whispered. "Who are you to have his eyes? Why do you have his smile?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"I'll find out," he said quietly. "I just need one thing... your DNA. After that, I'll know the truth."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked down at the dark city streets. This was his world now.

He was the leader of his father's gang; the Cruz Syndicate, and his men were waiting for his next move.

Maverick reached for his jacket, slipped it on, and ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Time to work," he said to himself.

He put the phone in his pocket, and Channel's picture was still open on the screen. He turned off the lamp, leaving the room in darkness, and walked out the door.

That night, the Adams house was quiet. The lights in the bedroom were dim, soft enough for resting but bright enough so Ava could watch over Ian. She lay on her bed, facing the hospital bed across the room. Ian lay there, stiff and still, his body weak from the severe stroke he had suffered months earlier. The hospital bed had high metal rails on both sides to keep him safe. Beside him stood a small oxygen monitor, its green numbers glowing in the dark. A feeding pump hummed gently, sending liquid food through a tube taped to the side of Ian's face. A suction machine sat nearby, used whenever he struggled to swallow.

He looked thinner than before, his cheeks slightly sunken. His right hand twitched sometimes, the only part of him that still made tiny movements. His eyes were half-open, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Ava watched him, she couldn't sleep.

A memory crept into her mind. She remembered the first day she met Ian years ago at the hospital café. He had walked up to her with that bright smile he always carried, holding two cups of coffee.

"You look like someone who works too hard," he had joked, placing one cup in front of her. "Let me fix that."

Ava had laughed, shy and surprised. He had leaned forward, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and said, "One day, I'm going to marry you... just wait."

And she had believed him. She had imagined a house filled with laughter, two or three kids, weekend trips, birthdays, holidays... the simple, sweet life she thought they would share.

But the stroke had taken all of that away, until all she could do was hope... that one day Ian would open his mouth and say something again. Hope that he would stand... that they would be a real couple, not a patient and a tired doctor-wife trying to be strong.

A soft beep from the monitor pulled her back. The numbers changed a little, telling her Ian was awake again... or unable to sleep.

Ava whispered to herself, almost like a prayer, "Maybe tomorrow will be better."

She got up from her bed and walked over to Ian. His eyes moved slowly toward her, and for a second they softened, like he was trying to recognize her.

Ava gave him a small smile.

"It's okay," she murmured. "I'm here."

She reached for the small bookshelf beside the hospital bed and took out a romantic novel; the one she used to read on lonely nights before she met him. She opened it to the page she had left last night.

"Let's finish this chapter," she said softly.

Ian's eyelids fluttered, he breathed slowly as he listened to her voice. Ava sat on the chair next to his bed and began to read calmly.

Minutes passed. Then an hour.

Ian's eyes finally closed, and Ava gently closed the book and brushed her fingers across his hand.

"Good night, Ian," she whispered.

She stood up, walked back to her bed, and lay down. Her body relaxed at last, seeing him sleeping peacefully.

Within minutes, she drifted into sleep too, and the faint noise from the machines was the only sound in the room.

The following morning, Ava Adams woke up to the ringing sound of her alarm. The room was still dim, only touched by the early morning light that slipped through the curtains. She blinked slowly, pushing herself up on her bed. Across the room, Ian lay on his hospital bed, the machines beside him giving off soft beeps.

Ava rubbed her eyes, then stood and walked to him.

His face was calm, but his chest rose unevenly, guided by the breathing support. The rails on the sides of the bed were up, and the small feeding pump blinked its green lights. A thin oxygen tube ran under his nose.

Ava placed her hand on his arm gently.

"Good morning, my love," she whispered, forcing a smile. "Let's start your day."

She picked up the small cup of morning medication, crushed a few pills and mixed in water. She lifted Ian slightly and helped him swallow the medicine.

"You're doing so well," she murmured, brushing his hair back. "One day... you'll get better. I know you will."

Ian blinked slowly, as if answering her. His fingers twitched against the blanket.

Ava checked the monitor numbers, nodding to herself. Everything seemed stable for now.

She sighed. "Okay... let me get ready."

Ava walked to the bathroom. She washed up, brushed her teeth, and fixed her hair neatly. She didn't look at herself too long in the mirror; she hated seeing the worry in her own eyes.

When she stepped back into the room, she rolled Ian's bed toward the door. The wheels moved smoothly, and she guided him down the hallway to the special care room with soft music playing in the background.

Hanna, the maid, appeared with her apron already tied and her hair in a bun.

"Good morning, Dr. Adams," Hanna said.

Ava smiled. "Morning, Hanna. I already gave him his first medication. At eight, please give him the second one, and make sure he finishes his feeding at ten. And... try to take him outside for a little sunshine later, even if it's just the balcony."

Hanna nodded. "I will. And breakfast is ready for you... oats and fruit."

Ava laughed. "You spoil me. I'll take it with me today. I'm running late."

She grabbed the packed breakfast from the counter. Then she turned to Ian again.

"Be good today," she whispered, touching his cheek. "I'll come back as soon as I can."

She leaned down and kissed his forehead gently.

Ian's eyes moved toward her.

Ava whispered, "I love you," then she straightened herself.

"Hanna," she said as she walked toward the door, "call me if anything changes. Anything at all."

"Yes, Dr. Adams," Hanna replied.

Ava hurried outside, her bag over her shoulder, breakfast in hand. She unlocked her car, took a deep breath, and slid into the driver's seat.

"I'll eat at work... if there's time," she said to herself with a weak smile.

The engine started, and she drove off toward the hospital, leaving her husband in Hanna's careful hands.

Ashford Central hospital's parking lot was already busy, nurses and doctors heading in and out. Ava parked her car in her usual spot. She grabbed her bag and her breakfast, locked the door, and walked toward the main entrance.

Automatic doors slid open, letting in the clean hospital smell. Nurses passed her in the hallway.

"Good morning, Dr. Adams," one of them greeted.

"Morning," Ava replied with a small smile.

Another nurse gave her a little wave and Ava waved back as she walked calmly to her office.

A few seconds later, she opened the door to her office. It was a small, neat room with blue walls, shelves full of medical books, brain charts pinned on a board, and her computer at the center. There was also a skeleton model standing in the corner.

Ava placed her bag on the desk and took out her breakfast and coffee. Before she even took a sip, she powered on her computer to check the night reports of patients.

Just then, a nurse walked in holding a folder.

"Dr. Adams, the results for Mr. Danley's scans came in."

Ava took the folder. "Thank you. I'll check them now."

The nurse nodded and left.

Ava sat down, opened her breakfast container. But before she could take her first bite, her phone rang. Her heart skipped a beat as one thought came to her mind... Ian.