The Hidden Valentine part three

Some nights are never meant to be remembered.

They carve themselves into the mind, replaying without mercy, resurfacing when you least expect them. They become the dividing line between who you were—and who you are forced to become.

That Valentine’s night was one of them.


---

The city glowed like it was in love with itself.

Strings of lights wrapped around lampposts, windows shimmered with reflections of roses and candles, and laughter spilled out of restaurants into the cold air. Valentine’s Day had arrived again, marking one full year since Ethan and Lily had collided on the sidewalk and unknowingly collided with fate.

Ethan checked the time for the third time in less than a minute.

She was late.

That alone wasn’t unusual. Lily had a habit of losing track of time when she was nervous or excited—and tonight, she was both. Still, a quiet unease pressed against his chest, unwelcome and unexplained.

His phone buzzed.

Lily:
Running a little late. Don’t be mad. I promise it’ll be worth it.

He smiled despite himself.

Ethan:
I could never be mad at you. Be careful.

Three dots appeared. Then disappeared.

No reply.


---

Lily stood in front of the mirror in her apartment, adjusting the necklace Ethan had given her earlier that evening.

The hidden heart rested just above her collarbone, delicate and warm against her skin. She touched it lightly, smiling at her reflection. Happiness sat on her shoulders like something new, something she wasn’t entirely used to carrying yet.

She grabbed her coat and keys, glancing at her phone.

One missed call from her mother. She hesitated, then slipped the phone into her bag.

“I’ll call her later,” she murmured.

Outside, the night was alive.

She walked quickly, humming softly to herself, replaying Ethan’s smile in her mind. She imagined the look on his face when she told him she had a surprise of her own—a small envelope tucked inside her purse, holding words she had rewritten a dozen times.

Words that scared her.


---

Ethan waited.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

The restaurant buzzed with couples and clinking glasses, but the noise felt distant, muted. He tried calling Lily. It rang until voicemail.

Again.

And again.

That unease returned, sharper now.

He stood, apologizing to the waiter, and stepped outside. Cold air bit into his skin. Snow had begun to fall again, light and deceptive.

“Come on, Lily,” he whispered.


---

The accident happened in seconds.

A car sped through the intersection, its headlights cutting violently through the night. Lily stepped off the curb, distracted by her phone vibrating in her bag. She didn’t see the car until it was too late.

The sound—metal, glass, impact—echoed down the street.

Then silence.


---

Ethan heard the sirens before he knew why they mattered.

They screamed through the city, urgent and merciless, passing too close. His heart began to race for reasons he couldn’t name. He dialed Lily again, his hands shaking.

Straight to voicemail.

A stranger brushed past him, talking rapidly into a phone. “There’s been an accident—yeah, on Fifth and—no, it’s bad.”

Ethan stopped breathing.


---

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear.

Ethan paced the waiting room, his coat still damp with melting snow, his mind replaying every moment of the past year like it was begging for forgiveness. When a nurse finally approached him, his heart dropped into his stomach.

“Are you Ethan Walker?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Yes. Where is she? Is she okay?”

The nurse hesitated.

That hesitation shattered him.

“She’s alive,” the nurse said gently. “But she suffered severe head trauma. She’s unconscious.”

Unconscious.

The word echoed endlessly.

They led him to her room.

Lily lay still, machines breathing for her, wires tracing paths over her skin like fragile lifelines. Her face was pale, her dark hair spread across the pillow. The necklace—the hidden heart—rested against her throat, untouched.

Ethan collapsed into the chair beside her bed.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m here. You’re not late anymore.”

He took her hand. It was cold.

“You promised,” he said softly. “You promised you’d be careful.”

Tears fell freely now, unashamed.

“I need you to wake up,” he pleaded. “Please. You don’t get to leave me like this.”

She didn’t move.


---

Days blurred together.

Doctors spoke in careful tones. Words like coma, uncertain, wait and see floated through the air like ghosts. Lily’s parents arrived, devastated and exhausted, clinging to each other for balance.

Ethan barely left the hospital.

He talked to her constantly. About their first meeting. Their walks. The kiss in the rain. He told her things he had been saving, things he thought there would be more time for.

“I was going to ask you to move in,” he confessed one night, his forehead resting against her hand. “I didn’t want to rush you. I wanted to do it right.”

Silence answered him.


---

Two weeks later, the decision was made.

A specialized treatment center overseas. A chance—small, fragile, but real.

“She needs to be moved as soon as possible,” the doctor said. “It’s her best option.”

Ethan felt the ground disappear beneath him.

“How long?” he asked.

“At least a year,” Lily’s mother replied through tears. “Maybe more.”

A year.

Or more.


---

The day she was transferred, Ethan walked beside the stretcher, numb.

He leaned down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead.

“I’ll find you,” he whispered. “No matter how long it takes. I swear.”

The doors closed.

Just like that, she was gone.


---

That night, Ethan stood alone in his apartment, the city still glowing for Valentine’s Day, indifferent and cruel.

He held his phone, her last unread message still open.

Running a little late. Don’t be mad.

He sank to the floor and broke.

When fate takes the one you love without warning… do you wait, or do you let go?

Continue to Part Four: Two Years of Silence and follow a love tested by distance, time, and unbearable absence.

#BrokenHearts #LoveAndLoss #EmotionalRomance