A/N:

First things first: thanks so much for all the reviews on the last chapter! And I'm so sorry for what I've done with this story... I warned you it was going to be really angsty and I can't promise that things will be happy again in this chapter or any time soon, but I hope you still want to read it!


No matter how many blocks Donna walks, how much sun bathes her skin, or how forcefully the wind hits her face, she can't find one single second of peace. She feels as if she's racing against time, desperately trying to defuse a bomb before it detonates. Behind her dark sunglasses, tears stream down her cheeks, mixing with an annoying hiccup, and her hands tremble uncontrollably. She doesn't recognize herself; she doesn't recognize her husband; she doesn't recognize her own life. Everything around her seems just a rubble of what was once her happiness.

She purchases a bottle of water, finds a secluded spot on a park bench, and attempts to regulate her breathing, taking small sips of water in hopes of calming her nerves. But the effect is far less soothing than she anticipated. Her entire life is falling apart; there's no way a stupid walk and a stupid bottle of water will calm her down.

The mere thought of a future without Harvey is her worst nightmare come to life. It's a scenario she never fathomed could materialize, yet recent events have thrust it upon her as a possible reality, much closer than she ever imagined, leaving her utterly petrified. She knew it would be challenging; she was keenly aware that a shift in her professional life would inevitably impact their marriage—after decades of working together, it was only natural. However, she had held onto the belief, perhaps naively, that she and her husband would navigate through it together... And the fact that Harvey didn't even attempt to do so—that was what broke her the deepest. She had always believed that she was as worthy to Harvey as he was to her... And no longer being certain of that, of one of the few steadfast certainties she clung to over the decades, plunges her into an abyss of anguish. She didn't know who she was anymore without Harvey by her side. The thought of discovering a new version of herself, separate from him, is daunting and unwelcome. She cherishes the person she becomes when they are together, as he always brings out the best in her, just as she did for him. The prospect of redefining herself without him seems unimaginable.

Her chest muscles ache, a result of crying, gasping for air, and the relentless tension that has built up over the past few hours, radiating to her neck, shoulders, and back. She thinks that maybe going to her yoga class, which is scheduled to begin in fifteen minutes, will help.

Arriving at the studio, she slips off her sneakers and stows them beneath the bench alongside her small bag. Silencing her phone and setting it atop her belongings, she prepares to momentarily escape her reality.

Donna consciously tries to calm her mind and concentrate on her body as the class starts, letting her thoughts come and go without being stuck. She tries to let go of control and focus on each stretch to release some of the tension. But no matter how hard she tries, Harvey never fails to loom huge in her mind.

She had accepted it a long time ago. There was no way to cut Harvey out of herself. And she knows that if it's not with him, it's with nobody else.

The idea of losing him, of losing her refuge with him in the midst of such a chaotic and frightening world, paralyzes her, leaving her without any reaction.

• ∞ • ∞ • ∞ •

Harvey experiences flashes, but they lack coherence. He recalls collapsing to the floor, gripped by tightness and pain in his chest that exceeded anything he had ever felt before. He tried to call Donna, but she didn't pick up, so he dialed emergency services instead. The operator's words confirming a likely heart attack transformed his fear into sheer terror.

How could he not feel terrified when he had already lost both his parents to sudden heart attacks?

The fear of dying, the raw fear of it, consumed him entirely. The panic that everything would end for him right then and there engulfed him. And what terrified him most was the thought of departing this world with Donna believing he didn't love her when the only constant in his life since he met her was loving her.

Goddamn it.

He had never loved anyone as much as he loved her.

Existence without her was unimaginable. Being himself without her was inconceivable. Sure, he might be flawed most of the time, but Donna always managed to see the best in him. And that best part of him existed solely because of her.

Did it make sense to survive, to fight, to be a version of Harvey without Donna? A version of himself that he didn't even want to know? He wasn't so sure.

He had no idea how long it took for paramedics to show up in his bedroom, perform a quick assessment, give him oxygen, wheel him onto a stretcher, and start the ride in the ambulance. But he's there now.

"Please, please, call Donna."

That's all he can think about while desperation consumes him. He can't draw his last breath until he stares at her eyes one last time. He needs to tell her that he loves her, that he was the stupidest man in the world, and that he loves her with every part of his body, his heart, and his soul. He needs to tell her; it's all that matters to him right now. Just to survive long enough to be able to say it.

As the doctors work on his body, trying to keep him alive, Harvey's mind floods with memories of his favorite person in the world. He recalls the way she effortlessly captured his attention at that bar, her presence magnetic and undeniable. He remembers how he just knew that she would be important in his life. He remembers the shared laughter, the endless conversations with a drink in hand, and the moments of complicity that only they understood. He remembers the feeling of her hand in his, warm and comforting, as if they fit together perfectly, just as their agitated, sweaty bodies fit together perfectly every time they make love. He remembers the sensation of embracing her, of holding her close, tangling his fingers in her red hair as she purred a comforting melody for him. He also remembers lying down on the couch and resting his head on her lap, an implicit signal for her to start tracing soothing patterns on his scalp and help relieve the migraine that was attacking him. He also recalls how she then leans towards him, her soft fingers tracing his features, and her sweet lips filling him with kisses full of calm and love. How he wishes she would be doing exactly the same right now, even if this situation is far worse than a migraine. He knows that she could help him. She always does.

But his memories are not all blissful; they are also tinged with the echoes of their worst moments. The shouts, the arguments, the slammed doors, and the tears—the visceral pain of fearing he might lose her, of feeling the ground vanish beneath his feet with every crisis. But also the tough times that were solely his burden to bear, and how she remained a steadfast presence, holding him with her unwavering love.

And that's when he recalls the only constant in his life, in all the ups and downs that he had: Donna. And faced with the prospect of death so close, he begins to feel stupid for all the time he wasted with her. The infinite time he wasted without being able to tell her that he loved her and only her, and also the time he wasted these last few months, behaving like an absolute asshole.

Fear intertwines with anguish, the yearning for her presence, for her hand clasped in his, for the chance to look into her eyes one more time, one last time, and remind her that he loves her, that he always did, that he always will.

Every time he blinks and opens his eyes again, he hopes to find her there, but she isn't... And that's when another surge of physical and emotional agony washes over him.

"Sir, sir..." a calm voice belonging to a doctor interrupts his thoughts. "You need to remain calm; you're experiencing a heart attack. Hyperventilating will only exacerbate your condition."

"Please, call my wife," he manages to say through a parched throat.

"Is your wife listed as your emergency contact?" Harvey just can slightly nod. "Then don't worry; we'll notify her as soon as we reach the hospital. Alright?" The doctor's soothing tone provides a brief respite as he administers a sedative to alleviate Harvey's soaring blood pressure. Though Harvey doesn't succumb to sleep, he feels increasingly disoriented. The world around him seems to move in slow motion.

Upon being wheeled out of the ambulance, Harvey feels slightly more alert, yet still disoriented. His body's sensations remain peculiar, though the sedative has somewhat alleviated his symptoms. What troubles him most now is the persistent tightness in his chest. He is certain that without the oxygen, he would already lose consciousness, unable to draw a breath, as if his chest refuses to expand and contract.

As they lower him from the ambulance, Harvey expends the last of his energy scanning his surroundings, desperately searching for his wife, yet finding only a cluster of doctors awaiting his arrival.

"My wife," Harvey murmurs, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

"He contacted emergency services himself. We entered his residence; he was found collapsed on the floor. It's a severe heart attack. His blood pressure spiked during transport, but we managed to stabilize it. Nevertheless, his heart remains under considerable strain," one paramedic relays to the doctor receiving him at the hospital.

"Got it," the doctor responds, pushing the stretcher from behind while the other two medics lend assistance.

"My wife," Harvey repeats feebly, his voice fading.

"We'll contact her; don't worry," reassures one of the medics as they maneuver the stretcher forward.

• ∞ • ∞ • ∞ •

"Donna," the yoga instructor interjects as the students hold their camel poses. "Your phone keeps lighting up."

The redhead exhales deeply and resumes her kneeling position on her pink yoga mat. "Sorry, I'll check it," she responds, feeling frustrated, convinced that it's Harvey persistently calling her. Rising from her mat, she heads to the bench, taking a moment to hydrate while glancing at her phone. Confusion washes over her as she sees missed calls from an unknown number. Before she can contemplate further, another incoming call flashes on her screen. "Hello," she answers, her tone tinged with uncertainty.

"Good morning. Is this Mrs. Donna Paulsen?" A kind voice inquires from the other end.

"Yes, speaking," Donna replies, her brows furrowing, a premonition of impending bad news settling in.

"You're Harvey Specter's wife, correct?"

"Yes, I am," Donna confirms, her impatience mounting.

"We're calling from the UW Medical Center. Your husband has been admitted."

"Is he alright?" Donna's breath catches in her throat, her voice barely audible to her own ears.

"He suffered a heart attack and is currently receiving medical attention. You're listed as his emergency contact."

Upon hearing those words, Donna's world blurs, and she feels her legs weaken, as if the ground is slipping from beneath her. The voice on the other end continues, but she struggles to comprehend, her focus fixated on a distant point ahead. Her complexion pales, tears welling in her eyes once more.

Moments ago, she fretted over the prospect of losing Harvey as her husband, but the reality of potentially losing him altogether immobilizes her. The thought of a world without Harvey is unfathomable. She recalls Gordon, Lily, his deceased parents—all lost to sudden heart attacks. She recalls breaking the news to Harvey, the anguish and fear in his eyes fresh in her mind. She can barely imagine his current state: alone, weighed down by the weight of his condition, his thoughts obscured by fear. That if he is conscious, a detail she isn't sure of, in the midst of her own struggle to compose herself, to avoid hyperventilation and tears, to simply react; she doesn't understand what is being said to her on the other end of the line.

"Donna? Donna?" Her instructor's voice breaks her thoughts as she crouches in front of her. "Are you alright?" Donna shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks unabated, her breaths erratic, consumed by the image of Harvey alone in the cold room of a medical emergency, surrounded by strangers fighting to keep her husband, her Harvey, alive. "Something's wrong?" Joanne probes, swiftly grasping the gravity of the situation. Donna barely manages a nod, her movements feeble. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"My husband had a heart attack. He's in the hospital," she reveals, her voice quavering, her hands trembling against her thighs. At some point, she had disconnected the call without realizing it.

"Is he stable?" Joanne seeks reassurance.

"They're attending him right now," Donna replies, her voice strained.

"Then you must compose yourself and go to him. He needs you," Joanne urges gently.

"Both his parents died like this," Donna murmurs, her voice fragile, causing Joanne's heart to ache as she scrambles to offer comfort.

"Your husband will pull through, alright?"

"What if he doesn't?" Donna's question startles even herself.

"He will, and you must be the first to believe it. He needs your faith now, more than ever. You have to be his pillar of strength."

The notion of having faith in Harvey hits her like a tide.

"Anyone else ever loses faith in me; it doesn't matter. But with you, it's different."

"You're right," Donna responds, wiping away her tears and inhaling deeply. "I need to be with him," she adds, reaching forward to grab her sneakers, but her trembling hands impede her progress.

"Take a cab. Don't drive like this, Donna. We don't need any more accidents at the hospital," Joanne advises, her concern evident. Donna nods, realizing she hadn't even considered transportation. As she struggles to slip on her sneakers, she fumbles for her phone to request an Uber, but the task proves overwhelming amidst her labored breathing. "Let me handle it," Joanne offers, gently taking her phone.

"Thank you," Donna murmurs, tying her shoelaces.

"You don't need to thank me," Joanne replies with a warm smile, arranging for the closest Uber to pick up Donna. With her other sneaker on and her belongings gathered, Donna catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and is taken aback by her appearance.

"Don't worry, Donna," Joanne reassures her. "Keep me updated, alright?"

"Yes, thank you, Joanne," Donna says before leaving the studio.

Back on the sidewalk, Donna's legs threaten to buckle beneath her, and she leans against a nearby wall for support. Checking her phone for the Uber's arrival time, she is overcome by emotion at the sight of her lock screen—a picture Mike had captured of Harvey and her without them knowing, their smiles radiant and their affection palpable. She can't recall the moment the photo was taken, but it captures a love so profound it brings more tears to her eyes. Their smiles, their gazes locked in adoration, their hands intertwined—everything she longs for with Harvey.

Donna can't remember the last time Harvey looked at her with such warmth, and the realization stings. She misses his gaze, his laughter, and the familiarity they shared. They've become strangers. She misses his eyes squinting from so much smiling, his lips stretching until they slightly cracked while he laughs, no matter how many times she asked him to use lip balm, he never did, saying her kisses were enough—a memory that elicits a bittersweet chuckle. She misses their connection, the world they had built together since that night at the bar—a world only they understood. She misses the silent communication, the shared understanding that transcended words. She misses her life with Harvey. They were happier than anyone anticipated, and she fears she's destroyed it. If those last few months were truly their last, tainted by her mistakes…"Damn it! Don't you dare die right now, Harvey!" she exclaims, tears welling in her eyes as she gazes at the photo. But her crying is interrupted by a notification of the car's imminent arrival, compelling her to compose herself, or at least attempt to. She needs to be there.

As she settles into the car, Donna directs the driver to the hospital and sinks back into her sorrow. A chaos of thoughts swirls in her mind, each one adding to the weight pressing down on her chest.

She knows she can't change anything that happened, that right now she can do nothing more than get there and let him know she's there.

Yet, gazing out the window, a troubling realization strikes her once more.

Harvey had been in the midst of a heart attack when he called, and she hadn't answered?

The tears already flowing intensify a hundredfold. Had her anger blinded her to the point where she couldn't tend to her husband in his moment of need? What sort of monster did that make her?

"Ma'am, is everything alright?" The driver inquires, noticing her distress.

"Just take me to the hospital. My husband had a heart attack, and I need to be with him," Donna replies, her voice strained.

"Of course, we're almost there. Here," the driver offers, passing her a box of tissues.

"Thank you," Donna murmurs, clutching the tissues tightly.

The minutes drag on, each one feeling like an eternity. Traffic lights linger on red, and the traffic crawls at a snail's pace, fueling Donna's impatience until she feels tempted to scream until her voice gives out. She would certainly be screaming if she were just by herself.

Upon arriving at the hospital, she practically sprints to the entrance, only halting when she collides with the reception desk, her elbows landing there. She pauses to catch her breath, her voice threatening to fail her.

"What can I do for you?" A young man behind the desk asks, his smile trying to be charming, but to her, it feels disturbing.

"Harvey Specter," she blurts out, her agitation palpable. "I'm his wife. He's been admitted for a heart attack," she rushes, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush.

"Your name, please?"

"Donna Paulsen," Donna responds, fishing out her identification from her wallet and passing it to the young man, who verifies it before returning it. "Where is he?" she demands, her throat constricting. She needs to see him.

"He's in the emergency area," the young man begins, but Donna doesn't wait to hear more. She's already sprinting down the hospital corridor, following the signs. Along the way, she collides with a young girl, too rushed to offer an apology, draws a reprimand from a passing man for running into the hospital, and earns a curse from a woman she inadvertently crosses paths with. But she pays them no heed. She only has one goal—to reach Harvey. She needs to reach him. She enters through the east entrance of the hospital, and with the emergency area located on the west side, she has to walk more than expected. This new route—though shorter than her previous journey by car—feels interminable.

As she steps through the double doors separating her from the emergency area, a new scene of chaos unfolds before her eyes, once again paralyzing her. A stretcher passes by, bearing a man covered in what appears to be the aftermath of a horrific accident. Donna is certain she's never seen so much blood before, and a wave of nausea and dizziness washes over her, forcing her to seek support to avoid collapsing.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" a resident doctor asks, approaching her.

"Yes, yes," she murmurs, shaking her head. "I'm looking for Harvey Specter."

The resident offers a reassuring smile. "You're Donna?" Donna nods, praying silently that this smile signifies Harvey's survival. "Your husband has been asking for you since he arrived."

Donna can't help but smile through her tears. He is thinking about her. He wants her here. "How is he? Where is he?"

"We're stabilizing him. I'm afraid we don't have much more information at the moment. Please, follow me."

Donna takes a deep breath, a mixture of relief and anguish flooding her senses. She nods and follows the resident, who leads her to the examination room where Harvey is being treated.

Upon entering, she's greeted not by Harvey's familiar face but by a flurry of activity as five doctors work urgently around him. The sight sends a jolt of fear through her veins.

"Harvey..." she calls out, trying to keep her voice steady as she approaches, searching desperately for his gaze amidst the chaos.

"Who are you?" the cardiologist questions.

"Donna," Harvey responds with a faint smile, even before Donna can utter a word. She's here.

Harvey's response to hearing Donna is one of immediate relief amidst the tumult surrounding him. Despite the confusion and fear he may be experiencing, Donna's presence brings him a sense of calm and security, as she always does, even in the most harrowing moments.

His words are a balm to her frayed nerves, and she reaches out to touch his leg, locking eyes with him for the first time there. "I'm here, Harvey," Donna whispers, her voice barely audible over the chaos around, tears streaming down her face. But as her hand makes contact, Harvey's gaze flickers away from hers, his pupils rolling back, the machines emitting a shrill continuous beep, and his body convulsing in a manner that terrifies her.

"He's crashing again! We need to get him to the OR now!" a doctor shouts as a resident leaps into action to perform manual resuscitation.

"Harvey?" Donna sobs, her surroundings blurring as panic grips her. Everything seems to be moving too quickly, yet she feels frozen, unable to move, her heart pleading for Harvey to meet her gaze once more.

"Donna!" the resident who escorted her there shouts, grasping her shoulders and steering her aside so they can transport Harvey. "We need to get him to the OR. He'll receive the best care possible," he assures her before following his colleagues, pushing the stretcher as they hurry towards the operating room.

In less than a minute, Donna had arrived the room, seen him, realized she was there, then he collapsed, and now they were about to perform heart surgery on him.

How could so many things happen in less than 60 seconds?

Donna walks through the corridors, completely dazed. She can't process everything that's happening; it's her instinct that keeps her moving, guiding her to follow Harvey. Her blurred vision makes it difficult to read the signs guiding her to the operating rooms, but she manages to decipher them.

She no longer runs or bumps into anyone; on the contrary, she walks too slowly, as if she's sleepwalking.

Donna collapses alone in the dimly lit waiting room, her mind in chaos. She clutches her purse tightly in her lap, seeking some form of comfort from its familiar weight. The ticking of the clock on the wall seems to echo loudly in the silence, counting down the minutes until she would hear news of Harvey's condition.

Her thoughts are a chaotic jumble of memories and regrets. She can't shake the guilt that gnaws at her, wondering if she had missed the signs of Harvey's impending heart attack for being so far away from him. If only she had been more attentive and more present, maybe she could have prevented this.

"Donna, you should have been there for him," she whispers to herself, her voice barely audible in the waiting room. Tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she blinks them back, determined to remain strong.

Minutes feel like hours, and Donna's impatience grows with each passing second. She can't fathom why time seems to drag on endlessly, as if the universe is taunting her with its slow pace. She wishes she could scream and let out all the pent-up emotions that threaten to suffocate her, but she's trying to keep herself in one piece. She owes that to him.

She looks about the room in an attempt to divert her attention, but she is unable to concentrate on anything. The confusion in her thoughts seems to be mirrored by the flashing white cold lights overhead, and she feels trapped as the white walls enclose her.

Her phone buzzes with messages and missed calls, but she can't bring herself to check them. Right now, she just needs to wait for the doctor's update.

Lost in her thoughts, she barely notices the other people coming and going in the waiting room, their faces filled with their own worries and fears, and time loses its meaning as she waits. Each second seems to stretch into eternity. All she can do is hope and pray for Harvey's recovery, clinging to the belief that love and determination could work miracles.

In that quiet moment of solitude, Donna finds herself talking to Harvey in her mind, as if he could hear her thoughts from afar. "Harvey, I'm here. I'm close, I promise you. I'm here, with the same unwavering faith I've always had in you. I know right now we're in the worst place we've ever been, and even though understanding you feels impossible to me, I still have faith in you because you're my person, you're my Harvey, and I know you're capable of anything. Please, fight in there, fight with all the strength you have, because I need you here with me, Harvey. I'll be here; I won't leave you alone. I know we'll find a way to fix this, but please don't let yourself be defeated now. I love you, Harvey, I love you so much more than I can, more than I should... I can't cut you off from me, please don't cut me off from you. We're strong together, Harvey, and no matter how dark the path may seem right now, I know we'll find the light at the end. Please, don't lose faith, because I'll never lose mine. Stay here, fight. I need you. I love you."

As the minutes pass, Donna's mind fluctuates between despair and hope, uncertainty and determination. Her heart is a whirlwind of emotions, and she knows that whatever the outcome, this experience would change her, him, and them forever.


see you in the next chapter? :)