Chapter 52

The call from the hospital had come in the night before. Ariana had sat up in bed, brushing sleep from her eyes as she answered.

Dr. Leila’s voice had been calm but firm. “We’re all clear. The jet leaves at 10:30 AM. We’ll have two doctors and three nurses on board, plus a cardiac monitor.”

Ariana had listened, scribbling notes, her mind racing.

When she hung up, Callum stirred beside her, groggy. “Everything okay?”

“She’s coming tomorrow,” Ariana whispered. “It’s finally happening.”

He pulled her close, and she buried her face in his chest, not realizing she was crying until his hands cupped her face.

“I’ll take care of the rest,” he murmured. “You just focus on her.”

...........................

The morning had arrived thick with tension, even the sunlight filtering into Ariana’s room seemed too bright—too expectant. She stared at the screen of her phone, the latest message from the doctor in charge of Charlie’s transfer team displayed plainly.

“Plane is cleared for 10:30 AM takeoff. We’re doing final prep now. Charlie’s vitals are stable. She’s ready for the transfer.”

Ariana let out a long, trembling breath. She was in the guest lounge of Callum’s penthouse, pacing in her bare feet, already dressed in a black trench coat and jeans, her curls swept into a high bun. Callum had offered to go with her to the hospital later, but this morning, she needed space to be alone with the gravity of it all.

The private jet had been arranged swiftly—because of course, when Callum Guerrero wanted something moved across the country, it happened. The doctors on board, the nurses, the new care team in Manhattan—they were all coordinated in less than forty-eight hours.

Her phone buzzed again.

Incoming Call: Charlie

She answered quickly, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Hey, baby sister.”

Charlie’s voice was thin but bright. “Hey you. So… looks like your guy’s jet has Wi-Fi and actual real beds. Am I flying or teleporting?”

Ariana laughed softly. “Teleporting. It’s a new Guerrero upgrade. They’re very advanced over here.”

Charlie was quiet for a beat, then whispered, “You sound tired.”

“I am,” Ariana admitted, walking to the window. “But you’re coming here. That’s all that matters.”

“Are you okay?”

Ariana blinked hard. “Honestly? I think I’ve been holding my breath since the day you got sick. But now—now I feel like I can finally exhale.”

There was another beat of silence.

“I’m scared, Ari,” Charlie whispered. “The new doctors, the surgery follow-ups, everything… I don’t want to start over.”

“You won’t be starting over,” Ariana assured her. “You’ll be building from where you paused. And I’ll be with you, every step.”

“I know,” Charlie said softly. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Ariana replied, her voice cracking.

A chime came through the line—boarding instructions from the flight nurse.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you soon,” Charlie said.

Ariana ended the call and let the tears finally fall, silent and fast.

Two hours later, the hospital staff were lined up for transfer protocol at Manhattan Heights Medical Center, one of the top rehabilitation hospitals in the city. Callum had made sure it wasn’t just “good”—he made sure it was the best.

Ariana stood in the open-air drop-off zone as the sleek black SUV came to a stop. She ran toward it before the door had fully opened.

Charlie was wheeled out gently by the nurse. Ariana froze at the sight of her—thinner, paler, her body visibly tired from the long ordeal. But her eyes were still the same—warm, sharp, and familiar.

“Charlie, my love” Ariana gasped, kneeling beside the wheelchair.

Charlie smiled faintly. “Well, Manhattan has your given you a new glow. You look fancy.”

Ariana let out a teary laugh. “And you look alive. That’s all I need.”

The two sisters embraced carefully, Charlie resting her head against Ariana’s shoulder, and Ariana holding her like something precious and breakable.

Callum stood a few feet away, giving them space, his hands in his pockets, watching Ariana with quiet protectiveness. She glanced up and caught his eyes.

She mouthed, thank you.

He nodded once.

Inside the hospital room, Charlie was settled quickly. Monitors beeped gently, nurses moved with practiced care, and Ariana sat beside her sister’s bed, watching her sleep after the sedatives kicked in.

The soft knock on the door made her look up.

Callum entered, silent as ever. He brought a tray of coffee and croissants—he’d left earlier to work and then to bring her something to eat.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he said simply, setting the tray on the table. “How is she?”

“She’s resting now.” Ariana said. “They’ll run tests later today, but the transfer went perfectly.”

She stood and walked toward him, then leaned into his chest. “Thank you. For everything. For the jet. For the doctors. For the way you let me fall apart and didn’t try to fix it, you just stayed.”

Callum wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “I didn’t do anything heroic. I just… I care. And I wanted to make sure you didn’t go through this alone.”

“You didn’t let me,” she whispered. “And that means more than you know.”

....................

Back at the penthouse, Ariana changed into loungewear, exhausted but emotionally lighter. She sat in the living room, scrolling through old pictures of Charlie and her on her phone, smiling at their ridiculous dance videos, the shared prom memories, Charlie’s goofy faces.

Callum joined her with two mugs of tea. “How is she doing?”

“She’s doing better now that she’s here,” Ariana said, setting her phone down. “She asked me today if you were real.”

Callum chuckled. “And what did you say?”

“I said you’re… difficult. Mysterious. Terrifyingly protective. But yes, real.”

He smirked. “Fair enough.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“You already have,” he said, more serious now. “By trusting me. Letting me in.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“You’ve met Charlie now,” Ariana said softly. “She’s all I had before this.”

“You don’t have to have just one thing anymore,” Callum replied. “Not when I’m here.”