Chapter 25 025
Chapter 25 Talia’s POV
My mother drove me over to the hospital at the speed of light, and my heart was racing even faster than that. What now? Could I really not have a single moment of peace?
I met the doctor in her office. There was a thick mask placed over her emotions. "Luna Talia, we have done everything we can to save your son, but his wolf is not molding well into the rest of his system. It is rejecting it so violently that now we are left with only two options."
It was as if my heart was hanging by a thread. Who could have thought such a rare occurrence would fall upon my son? Suddenly, his shifting ceremony entered my mind and I asked the doctor point-blank, "Could this have something to do with his shifting ceremony?"
I already knew that my children's underwhelming shifting ceremony was known across the pack; there was no hiding it anymore. She tried not to hurt my feelings or make me panic when she said that it had some effect, but normally it wouldn't be so serious. I knew she was trying to water down the actions of a father who had refused to properly celebrate our children and get the blessing of the Moon Goddess for their shifting to continue without issues.
I was angry, so upset, but now was not the time for my anger to be displayed. I had to do something for my son.
Holding my breath, I asked, "What can I do to save my boy? I can't lose my baby, I will lose my mind."
The doctor looked back at me and said, "Like I said before, there are only two options for you and your son. One of them is that we give him suppression pills so that his wolf is not awakened at all and cannot react violently to his body."
I shook my head instantly to that suggestion. What kind of life would my son live if he couldn't shift? It was a core part of our identity. Non-shifters were unfortunately outcast by many, especially those of higher rank. He would spend the rest of his life in a struggle if he did not have an inner wolf.
So, I asked the doctor what the second option was. She tilted her glasses and responded, "All right then. The second option is a two-year therapy treatment. There's a chance of this working—about 50%. It is still almost experimental, but has worked for some. And another thing about it is that it is incredibly expensive."
My heart was dropping into a pit. As my voice was beginning to strain, I asked her, "Just how expensive is it?"
She hesitated for a long while and then finally told me the amount. It made me sit back and really press into my chair. It was something around $100,000, and I didn't have a single official penny to my name. All together, my savings added up to about $7,000, and technically the only way I could get a single dollar from that account was if I got permission from Varian.
To think that some hours ago I had told him that I was going to divorce him and be independent. Now I would have to go back to him for help.
I decided to see how much I could get from friends and my mother first. I tried calling up some friends; some didn't pick up, others immediately told me that they were super busy, and about two or three who actually stayed long enough to have a real conversation told me that they were practically penniless. Their expenditures, which were posted online almost every day, said otherwise, but I couldn't force them to give me money.
So, I went to my mom with shame in my heart. My mother was making Alfredo pasta and chicken when I brought up the long-term therapy, adding that the doctor told me we would have to do it as soon as possible to maximize the chances.
My mother stepped away from the pot boiling the pasta, her hands shaking. "Why haven't you told Varian about this?"
My eyes began to twitch just from hearing his name. My blood boiled. "How could you expect me to call him? I told you I was getting a divorce."
Her eyes went wide—so much so that I wouldn't be surprised if they came popping out of their sockets. "I thought that he just upset you and you wanted some time to cool off. Are you really going to leave him?"
Hearing my mother say that truly hurt. Did she think that me coming to her doorstep with my bags hastily packed and my eyes filled with tears would be because of something petty? I told her everything—about how Varian supposedly had an on-and-off "friends with benefits" relationship with Shelly, and how they became solid after I got together with him.
She listened, and by the time I was done, her jaw hit the floor. She couldn't even say anything after that. Her silence really troubled me, so I just fought against my shame and asked, "Mom, the treatment is about $100,000. But if you can help me with at least 50, I can figure out the rest."
She backed away, holding onto the island in the kitchen to stop herself from collapsing. "I'm sorry, I can't help you," she said, her voice breaking. "I rea
lly can't help you."