My Bratty Wife
Chapter 157 - Hundred And Fifty Seven

Chapter 157: Chapter Hundred And Fifty Seven

Suzy lay still on the bed. The remnants of the dream clung to her like a faint mist. Her brow was slightly furrowed, her breathing shallow. It had all happened so quickly. One moment she was reliving that terrifying memory, the next, a single word, "Doris," escaped her lips, and then, nothing. She had slipped into unconsciousness.

Ryan had been frantic. He’d paced the room, his heart pounding in his chest, after finally sending someone to call Dr. Abernathy. The doctor had arrived promptly, his black bag in hand, a look of concern on his face. He’d examined Suzy carefully, checking her pulse, her breathing, her reflexes.

"She had a shock in her sleep, she’s out of danger, Your Grace," Dr. Abernathy had said, after his examination. "She needs rest. Nothing more."

Ryan had let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. "Thank you, Doctor," he replied, relief washing over him.

"You’re welcome, Your Grace," Dr. Abernathy responded, a small, reassuring smile on his lips. He packed his instruments back into his bag. "Make sure she gets plenty of rest and fluids. If she doesn’t regain consciousness in the next few hours, or if her condition changes, please don’t hesitate to call me again."

"I will," Ryan promised, his eyes never leaving Suzy’s face.

Davis, who had been quietly observing from near the door, stepped forward. "I’ll see the doctor out, Your Grace," he said respectfully.

Ryan nodded absently, his attention completely focused on Suzy. He watched as Davis escorted Dr. Abernathy out of the room, the door closing softly behind them. The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the soft rhythm of Suzy’s breathing.

Ryan pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. He reached out and gently took Suzy’s hand in his. Her skin was cool to the touch, and he rubbed it gently between his fingers, trying to infuse some warmth back into it. He looked at her face, her delicate features softened in sleep. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her forehead.

"Wake up, Duchess," he murmured softly, his voice filled with concern. He squeezed her hand gently. "Come on, Cassandra. Open your eyes."

He waited, watching her intently for any sign of movement. Nothing. He continued to rub her hand, his thumb tracing small circles on her palm.

"Cassandra," he said again. "It’s me, Ryan. Please wake up."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. " Cassandra," he said softly. "I’m worried." He paused, then added, "Dr. Abernathy said you just need to rest. But... I’d feel better if you woke up."

He remembered the dream she had been having, the way she had cried out in her sleep. He wondered what she had been dreaming about, what had caused her such distress. He wished he could enter her dreams, comfort her, and chase away the nightmares that haunted her.

He sat there for a long time, holding her hand, whispering her name, willing her to wake up. The room was quiet, the only sound the gentle rhythm of their breathing. He watched her face, searching for any flicker of movement, any sign that she was about to awaken. He was prepared to wait there all night if he had to, until she opened her eyes and looked at him. He couldn’t bear the thought of her lying there, unresponsive, a prisoner in her own unconsciousness. He needed her to wake up. He needed to know that she was alright.

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Doris slipped back into the quiet of the house, unnoticed. She hurried to her room, the clink of the teabags in her pocket muffled by the folds of her cloak.

Once inside, she quickly shed her cloak and slipped the teabags into a drawer, hiding them from view. She paused for a moment, catching her breath, before heading out again, intending to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water to calm her nerves.

As she stepped into the hallway, she was met with an unexpected scene. A flurry of hushed activity filled the air, a sense of unease hanging heavy in the atmosphere.

"What happened?" Doris murmured to herself, her brow furrowing in confusion. She saw Davis escorting Dr. Abernathy towards the front door. Her heart skipped a beat. "Did anything happen to His Grace? Or..." Her thoughts trailed off, a sudden, chilling realization dawning on her. "Milady!" she exclaimed under her breath, a surge of panic rising within her.

She rushed towards Suzy’s room, her footsteps quick and silent. But as she reached the door, she was stopped by Noah, his face etched with concern.

"Where were you?" he asked, his voice firm.

Doris was taken aback by the question. "I was sleeping," she replied, a slight edge of defensiveness creeping into her tone. She tried to move past him, but Noah stood his ground.

"Her Grace just had a shock in her sleep," he explained, his gaze unwavering, "and she called your name. But you were nowhere to be found." He paused, his expression serious. "I’ll ask again, where were you?"

Doris bristled at his tone. "What do you mean by that question?" she retorted, her hands clenching at her sides.

Noah’s expression softened slightly, though his concern remained. "I’m just asking because you didn’t come when Her Grace called you," he said, his voice calmer now.

Doris took a step back, her mind racing. "I was deep in sleep," she repeated, her voice a little less steady this time.

Noah’s face relaxed a little, but he continued. "She was having a bad dream," he explained, "and she was calling out your name."

Doris’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. She remembers, she thought, a wave of fear washing over her.

Noah’s voice broke through her thoughts. "His Grace instructed me not to allow anyone in," he said. "Her Grace needs her rest."

Doris, still reeling from the implications of what Noah had said, asked, "What about Lady Isabella?"

"I had to send her back to her room, as per His Grace’s instructions," Noah replied.

"Okay," Doris said, trying to maintain a semblance of composure. "I will see her when she’s awake." She turned and walked slowly back to her room, her heart pounding in her chest. She clasped her hands tightly together, her knuckles white. The fear that had been simmering beneath the surface now threatened to boil over.

Once inside her room, she closed the door softly behind her and leaned against it, her eyes wide with apprehension. "She remembers. What would become of me?" she whispered, the question hanging in the air, unanswered.