He Chose Her Tears Over My Grief

Chapter 1

The harsh, sterile scent of bleach and rubbing alcohol clung to the back of my throat, making it impossible to swallow the rising panic. I paced the length of the surgical waiting room, my phone pressed so tightly to my ear that my fingers were completely numb.

Outside the third-floor windows, a torrential downpour battered the glass, distorting the city lights into angry, blurred streaks.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," I chanted under my breath, my voice trembling.

The line rang for the fifth time before it finally clicked over.

"Nora?" Julian’s voice came through the speaker, breathless and distracted. "Hey, I'm just leaving the office. What's going on? You called six times."

"Julian, it’s my dad," I choked out, my knees finally giving way. I sank into a rigid plastic chair, curling my free hand into the fabric of my skirt. "He collapsed at his house. His neighbor found him. It’s a massive stroke, Julian. They just rushed him into emergency surgery."

The background noise on Julian’s end instantly vanished as he slammed a car door. "What? Oh my god. Nora, are you okay? Where are you?"

"I’m at Seattle Grace. Third floor, surgical wing. Please, Julian, you have to get here. The doctors… they said it doesn't look good. There was so much bleeding." A sob tore its way up my throat, completely unbidden. I hated crying, but the thought of losing my father—the only family I had left in the world—shattered every wall I had built.

"I’m on my way," Julian said firmly, stepping into his role as the decisive CEO of Thorne & Vance, the architecture firm we had built together. "I’m pulling out of the parking garage right now. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t panic, Nora. I’ve got you. I’m coming."

"Hurry. Please."

"I love you. Hang tight."

I dropped the phone into my lap and buried my face in my hands. Julian was coming. My fiancé was coming. The man I had loved for five years, the man I was supposed to marry in four months, was going to walk through those double doors and hold me together while my world fell apart.

For twenty agonizing minutes, I stared at the frosted glass doors of the surgical ward. Every time a nurse walked past, my heart stopped.

Finally, the elevator pinged at the end of the hall. Julian jogged down the corridor, his dark wool coat damp from the rain, his expression tight with concern.

"Julian!" I stood up, practically throwing myself into his arms.

He caught me, wrapping his arms tightly around my shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I'm here. I'm right here, Nora. Have they told you anything else? Has the surgeon come out?"

"No," I whispered into his chest, gripping his lapels like a lifeline. "They said it could be hours. They had to relieve the pressure in his skull. Julian, I'm so scared."

"Shh, I know. It's going to