Page 55 of Medical Malpractice

“Okay,” he said, easily accepting my promise.

I shifted my stare to Gabriella, reaching out and squeezing her hand, grasping that last piece of connection. My family.

There was no denying we had a long road ahead of us, with all the struggle and trauma we had to unpack.

But it was right there, buried beneath the combined weight of my children and the loving support of my wife. I knew I was on the cusp of finding complete and utter fulfilment. And I was willing to sacrifice anything to make sure that we achieved nothing less.

Recovery, forgiveness and healing were the goal, and there was no way I was going to let that vision out of my sight.

As I was dying, Gabriella’s words had sunk deep, resonating through my core until the vow was ingrained in my very DNA.

“Fight for me. Fight for us.”

Till my dying breath.

Epilogue 1

LEONARDO

Two years later…

I stood outside the community hall, taking a breather as I readjusted my hold, ensuring my oversized onesie didn’t smother the cake.

We were celebrating Gabriella’s fifty-fourth birthday, and based on the sounds of festive, echoing screams, the party was in full swing.

With all the organised chaos, my wife had forgotten about the chocolate cake she had ordered from a couple of towns over, sending me on a last-minute errand, hence my fashionably late arrival.

Originally, she requested something low-key, however, as more people were added to the invite list, I knew the little shindig was going to be an all-out party. What I hadn’t anticipated was the dress-up theme.

I wiggled in the uncomfortable, cheap, fabric trying to relieve the itch, since my hands were occupied. I’d barely worn the damn thing for fifteen minutes, and I swore I was getting a rash. But my wife had picked the costume out specifically, so there was no way I wasn’t going to wear it. I was willing to do anything to make her birthday a success, including donning that ridiculous rodent’s suit.

It felt like a lifetime ago that we were in such a low place, our marriage tethering on collapse, my body recovering from near death, our family wading through the aftermath of trauma.

Hell, sometimes, we were still thrust back into those debilitating days of sorrow and uncertainty. But as time moved on, those unpredictable triggers became less and less frequent. Our lives steadily pushed out the black to make room for a brighter future.

None of it was easy. My physical recovery initially had some setbacks due to putting all my energy into everything else. My concern primarily lay with my wife and kids, ensuring they were receiving all the help they could get.

Gabriella was adamant that she never wanted to return to our home, where she watched me bleed out on the floorboards. I held the same sentiment, hence our immediate departure from the place that held so much pain. And let it remain and die there.

The task was mammoth, and at times, felt impossible. However, anxiety had become an ever-present thief, stealing my sleep. I didn’t wallow, and took advantage of the available extra hours to get more done, neglecting my own needs to prioritise those of my family. I held no regrets.

Though, as predicted, that soon took a toll on my healing, causing me to rebound into hospital due to infection, which sparked my wife’s anger and concern.

Gabriella already held immense responsibility, so I refused to be another burden on top of the rest. Even so, with my reluctance to pull back, reinforcements were called, my stubborn nature conjuring the chief of petty and cunning herself, Daisy.

My wife’s best friend was petite and could play the angelic woman well, but you’d be a fool to let that sway you. Daisy was legitimately the only person I was scared of, and proved her strength by strong-arming me back into my hospital bed, to then take over Operation Relocation.

In the next six months, there was great change. Rehab was consistent, intensive therapy was a must and open communication was encouraged. Gabriella wanted to move out of the city and chose the most readily available option to be near Austin. We planned on the small town being a temporary abode, which soon became permanent as we fell in love with the lifestyle.

Acacia Falls was a supportive, tight-knit community that rallied around us in our darkest moments. Angelina and Celeste quickly adjusted to their new surroundings, happy to be closer to their brother. And the Thornes welcomed us into their extended family, fostering a positive environment for all involved.

Gabriella had also found a close companion in Daisy’s friend, some bigwig lawyer named Stella. They’d fast become the three musketeers, raising havoc in all their men’s lives—not that we ever complained. If anything, I was thankful for the connection as those strong, independent women became a solid support system for my wife. For that alone, I was truly thankful.

It was a year later, on a spring evening, that Gabriella randomly turned to me and said, “I feel safe here, Leo. This community has become a protective factor for me, a sense of security I wasn’t expecting. I want to stay. Do you?”

She had given me a precious gift that night. Recovery was hard work, and sometimes took everything out of us. But with that statement, my wife had planted the seed of newfound hope.

“I’ll stay wherever you are, darling,” I said, my voice catching.