Chapter 96

Chapter 96
Blaze

I walk in and stop cold.

Carlo’s face is pale, lips parted like he forgot how to speak. His eyes flick to me, and it’s like he’s seeing a ghost. I’ve seen this look once before—when we were standing outside the courtroom three years ago. That same fucking horror carved into his features.

“Babe,” he chokes, his voice breaking in the middle. “My dad. He collapsed. He’s… he’s in the hospital. I need to go. My mom’s there alone.”

I don’t think. “Hey. I’m coming with you.”

His brows lift, unsure. But I step closer and nod. “You don’t need to do this shit alone.”

He stares at me for a beat too long, like he’s trying to figure out if this is real. Then he nods. “Okay.”

We make sure mum gets her meds, her comfort. She gives me this knowing look as I kiss her cheek and tell her we’ll be back. Like she already knows something big is about to go down.

The car ride to the hospital is quiet. Carlo’s hands grip the wheel too tight, his jaw clenched. I want to say something, but I also know when he needs silence. I just stay close. That’s what matters now.

When we walk into the hospital, Carlo’s mom is standing near the front desk, talking with a nurse. She turns, and her eyes land on him first. Then me.

She stares.

Not a word. Just tears welling fast. Then she crosses the room in a blur and pulls Carlo into her arms.

“My boy,” she sobs, holding him like she’s scared he’ll disappear. “You came.”

Carlo nods against her shoulder. “Of course I did.”

Her gaze flicks back to me. She doesn’t say anything, but I see it in her eyes—the questions, the realization. That I’m not just some friend. That I’m here. With him.

She doesn’t flinch. She just gives me a small nod, almost like thanks.

After a moment, she whispers, “He has a terminal illness… he’s been hiding it. For God knows how long.”

Carlo pulls back. “What?”

She nods, wiping her eyes. “He collapsed at home. He’s stable now, but… it’s bad, Carlo.”

We walk through the sterile hallway, the quiet buzz of machines and nurses filling the space. My chest tightens with every step.

When we get to the room, Carlo pauses outside the door. Breathes in deep.

“You okay?” I ask.

“No,” he mutters. Then he pushes it open.

The man in the bed barely looks like the monster I’ve imagined for years. Pale, gaunt, oxygen tubes in his nose. He opens his eyes slowly when he hears the door.

His gaze lands on me first, standing behind Carlo.

Cold.

Silent.

Then his eyes shift to his son.

“Carlo.”

“Dad.”

They stare at each other for a long second. Then his father swallows, his voice raspy. “Are you happy now? I knew I had a few more years to live so I decided to make good use of it. I did it all because I wanted to make sure you had an heir. In case… in case you insisted on loving a man.”

My jaw clenches.

Carlo doesn’t say anything.

His father goes on, words slow and shaky. “You’re stubborn. I knew you wouldn’t listen unless I forced your hand. I thought if you had a child, the rest wouldn’t matter.”

Carlo’s voice is low. “You ruined my life.”

His father coughs, chest rattling. “I did what I thought was right.”

“And now?”

“I was wrong,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

Then he looks at me again.

That same fucking disdain in his eyes. Like I’m still the disease that infected his perfect plan. He turns his head to the side, refuses to even address me.

Carlo notices. “Don’t do that.”

“He’s the reason—”

“I’m the reason I’m happy again,” Carlo snaps.

His father closes his eyes. Says nothing more.

The room feels too small. Too fucking heavy.

“I’ll give you some time,” I murmur.

Carlo nods without looking back.

I step out, needing air more than anything. My lungs are tight. My throat burns. I walk until the hallway opens up near the pediatric wing, where it’s quieter. No sounds of beeping. Just pastel colors and tiny chairs and forgotten teddy bears.

Then something small crashes into me.

I stagger a bit, looking down.

It’s a kid. Maybe two, three tops. He’s fallen on his ass, blinking up at me with wide eyes. His curly hair’s a mess, cheeks flushed from crying or maybe running.

“Shit—hey, you okay?” I crouch and scoop him up. He’s light. Warm.

“Sorry,” he says with a tiny voice, barely forming the word right.

My chest twists.

“Hey, it’s fine,” I murmur. “You good?”

He nods, sniffling

Then he smiles.

And it hits me like a quiet wave I didn’t see coming.

That smile. Wide and dimpled. A little crooked, a little too familiar.

Something in my chest shifts.

“Milan!” a voice calls from behind us.

I look up as a woman approaches — mid-30s, probably the nanny. She looks breathless but relieved. “Thank you,” she says, taking the boy gently from my arms. “He always runs off the second I look away.”

“He’s alright,” I say, my voice softer than I expect. I glance at him again. The boy is holding on to her, but his eyes are still locked on me. There’s a spark in them. That same curiosity Carlo always had when he was thinking too much but didn’t want to say it out loud.

“Blaze!”

Carlo’s voice pulls me around.

He’s walking up fast, eyes searching, probably panicked because I disappeared without saying a word. But before I can speak, the little boy turns in the nanny’s arms.

“Daddy!”

He wriggles out of her grasp and runs, little shoes slapping against the tile. Carlo drops into a crouch, arms wide.

The boy launches into him, and Carlo catches him like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like he’s done it a hundred times. Like it’s nothing new.

Carlo kisses the boy’s cheek, holds him close, presses his forehead to his.

My breath catches. Not in anger. Not even in shock.

Just stillness.

I walk toward them slowly, my mind trying to keep up with the moment. The way Carlo holds that boy. The way the boy clings to him.

“You didn’t tell me he was that cute,” I say quietly, stopping just a foot away.

Carlo lifts his head, blinking at me.

“You’re not… mad?”

I shake my head, almost smiling. “He’s got your eyes.”

Carlo laughs a little, like he doesn’t believe me. “He does, doesn’t he?”

I glance at the boy again — Milan. He’s got a bruise starting to bloom on his forehead from the fall earlier, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s too busy playing with Carlo’s shirt button, babbling nonsense and giggling.

“How old is he?” I ask.

“Two and a half,” Carlo replies.

I nod. “He’s a good kid.”

“He’s… everything,” Carlo says quietly.

Milan looks at me again and tilts his head. “You Blaze?” he asks, or tries to. It comes out more like Bwayss?

Carlo chuckles. “Yeah, buddy. That’s Blaze.”

“Bwayss funny,” Milan decides, then leans his head against Carlo’s chest.

I feel something tighten in my throat.

"He used to watch your races with me and would scream your name when you win" Carlo said smiling.

I reach out, brush the kid’s curls lightly. “He’s smart too.”

Carlo watches me like he’s seeing something he didn’t think he’d ever get.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he says after a pause. “About him. About everything.”

"That's fine. I understand"
Carlo smiles, I love the happy expression on his face and damn! My man is so fine. I didn’t think about this all the time but yeah, I’m lucky to have him as mine.