Addison watched as the preemie struggled to breathe, her small chest stuttering while rising and falling. She did not remove her finger from the baby's hold, as she knows feeling no one's around worsens the pain. Granted, the baby was just that—a baby, still unconscious of what's going on around her, yet Addison knows the incision she made on that small chest a couple hours ago says otherwise.
She was too young to know the horrors of the world, and all Addison could offer was her presence… someone should.
"No news from the family?" Addison shook her head, fighting back the tears from falling.
This girl was fighting so hard to live, and there's no one around her to support her, to take care of her, to push her to keep going.
She has no one.
"She has no one," Addison voices out, not looking away from the preemie. She felt Derek's hand on her back, and any other time she would have moved away like he was a scalding hot coffee, yet now she can't.
Despite her constant detachment from him, he's still Derek. Love-of-her-life Derek, and despite her signature all dried up in their divorce papers, that doesn't mean he can't do things she won't feel.
That doesn't mean his touch doesn't immediately calm her, how his mere presence makes her feel safe and go stir crazy all at once.
"You're here, we're here for her." He was too close for comfort, and had the little girl not been lightly holding her finger, she would have run away from the NICU… to just get away from his confusing presence.
"We're not—we're not enough."
"Well, I'd like to believe we are." His voice went even quieter, as they both understood what the other was actually saying.
"We are. She may not just realize it yet, but we're enough for her now." Her breath hitched and she knew a few seconds more, her progress in attempting to move on will disappear in an instant.
"We're not, Derek. Stop pushing." She walked away, heart half-torn from letting the preemie's hold drop.
Derek was suffocating her. Three-weeks-long suffocating, like he's not letting her breathe by being constantly there—everywhere, beside her, following her…
Buying her coffee.
Walking her to the parking lot until she drives away.
Giving her lunch when she skips.
Handing her juju before a complicated surgery, showing how he keeps track of her schedule.
He does everything yet nothing at the same time because the divorce papers were still half-signed. And he makes her feel like Satan despite him not calling her names anymore, when he looks broken everytime she brings the papers up.
And she hates that he's the one thing stopping her from moving even an inch forward, even when he was the reason why she was so desperate to move on in the first place.
She hates that when she curls up in loneliness every night in the hotel, she craves for his presence, mind reeling from the romanticized comfort of being inside his arms again.
She hates him so much.
"Addison. Addison, wait up."
She walked faster, calves burning from the strain of her heels.
"Two minutes?" His hold was soft, yet enough to make her stop. She finally faced him, and he gave her that soft smile—a look so familiar from the one memory in med school, when he wrapped her forgotten scarf around her as they walked through the cold streets of New York Christmas, another ritual now long forgotten.
"Nancy told me you forgot this last New Years at her place… her messy apartment made it harder to find."
"Last… The one—"
"Yeah, the first time I proposed…"
"The one without the ring."
"Yup. The one without the ring." Derek smiled, and his expressive face was one of the things she loved the most about him, as she knows he loves her genuinely, what with how soft his eyes were. Her face felt stretched as her wide smile cut through her frozen cheeks. Even without the ring, she would have said yes—she did say yes.
And this Christmas time next year, they will be married.
"I want to give you this."
Envelope.
She steeled her emotions, heart suddenly racing.
Without looking what's inside, she just knows they were the papers she had been asking him over and over again.
"I think—no. I know you would love this and… well, I know it will make you happy. I want you to know that I love you, Addie. I still do… that's why I—"
Their pagers beeped, 911.
She slid the envelope to her pocket, coat instantly going heavy as she ran through the hospital hallways. She barely heard Derek's voice calling her name, her ears were flooded by her loudly beating heart.
It was what you wanted, Addison.
Under the covers, again within the walls of Archfield, their memories played back, as if she was skipping through movie frames, searching for that silver lining, one where she could justify that a decade-worth wasn't really wasted.
Now they're getting divorced, papers fully signed.
Third missed call.
Tears kept blurring her vision, the barely healed wounds in her heart reopened fresh. She couldn't stop crying, hoping tears would have run out by the time she gathered enough strength to open the envelope and see their fully signed papers.
His signature near hers, all dried up too, marking the end of their marriage.
A marriage she's desperate to save.
Fourth missed call.
She received a message and unthinkingly, she reached for her phone and opened it. And the other messages.
Hope you opened the envelope. x
Tell me you did? We really can't reschedule…
That's my Christmas gift to you by the way.
Addie, it's really not ideal if you're not prepared...
Addie, open it. We're booked for tomorrow, no other time available unless you want after New Year's? Answer my calls, please.
Are you at the Archfield? I'm on my way there.
5 minutes, Addie
The last one made her bolt out of bed.
She clenched her fists on her sheets, looking at the unopened envelope on her nightstand.
It's all happening so fast, and she can't gather enough emotional stability to stare at the final marks of their marriage. The moment she sees his signature, it would be the start of their end forever imprinted on her brain.
Three sharp knocks snapped her out of her trance.
"Addie, open the door, please." She stared at her door in disbelief. "Look, I have security here with me and some of the staff, ready to blast this door open. I'm worried."
She desperately wiped away her tears, which is all for naught.
"Addison."
She took a deep breath to make herself half presentable. She went to the door to face her husband, who was looking at her in relief.
"I thought something happened! You can't keep disappearing—you're crying. What happened?" He was looking at her from head to toe, fearing to find where she was probably bleeding.
She could not speak, but stared instead at the hotel staff behind Derek.
"Everything alright, Sir?"
"Yes, yes. Thank you," Derek told the staff. He just stared at her, waiting for her to let him in.
She did.
This may be their last night.
"You're not answering anyone's calls. Even Nurse Debbie is worried." She walked slowly to the bed, occupying the ruffled space where she was just a minute ago.
"Why were you crying?" The space beside her dipped, and she can't will herself to talk or else she would sob, and Derek would see her breaking, and he would yell at her again, saying things like this was what she wanted, that she doesn't have the right to cry because she wished their marriage—
"You still haven't opened it."
She stared at the envelope, followed it as Derek lifted it up, opened it…
… once again forcing her to do something she did not want to do.
"Stop." Her voice was so weak and she hated it. He paused, staring at her with a frown.
"What?"
"I don't want to see it," She said, voice breaking at the end as a few tears escaped her eyes. "I don't want to see it."
"Do you know what's inside?" She glared at him through the tears. She doesn't want to even see it, what makes him think she would be alright voicing it out loud?
Does he want her to scream?
She watched in horror as he pulled out the papers, standing as her hand was itching to snatch it away.
"Boarding pass, Addie. We're going to New York in a few hours."