Chapter 24: Spending the day with Ria

Laura's POV

The alarm had buzzed minutes ago, yet I lingered under the covers, eyes tracing the ceiling as fragments of last night replayed in my mind.

Jaxon's behavior last night was too strange.

It was very much unlike him.

I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

A soft knock pulled me back.

“Who is there?” I called, tossing the duvet aside.

“Good morning, Momma. Can I come in?” Ria's voice muffled through the door, small and hopeful.

“Yeah, hang on.” I slid from the bed, stifled a yawn that stretched my jaw wide, and swung the door open.

Ria stood there, her grin splitting wide, eyes sparkling the instant they met mine. Bed-tousled hair stuck out in wild tufts, a faint crease from the pillow slashed across her left cheek—yet she glowed, radiant as ever.

I crouched, scooped her up, and crushed her small body against mine, arms wrapping tight around her warmth. Only then did I spot the breakfast cart tucked in the corner.

My breath caught. “Oh, baby.” A grin tugged my lips apart as I beamed down at her. “Did you bring me breakfast?”

She nodded vigorously against my shoulder, face nuzzling into my hair, her breath warm on my neck.

Heat bloomed in my chest, spreading outward like sunlight. I glanced at the tray: fluffy pancakes stacked high, pats of butter melting beside a drizzle of syrup, vibrant strawberries sliced into perfect bites, steam curling from a mug of green tea, and a glass of orange juice beaded with condensation.

I hoisted her onto my back—her legs clamped around my waist—and wheeled the cart inside. At the bedside, I wiggled my fingers along her ribs until she shrieked, sliding down in a tangle of giggles, tears streaking her flushed cheeks.

“You little menace.” I pinched her cheek gently, thumb brushing the soft skin. My girl.

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, then slipped into the bathroom to freshen up.

When I returned, Ria bounced on her toes, energy crackling around her. Together, we arranged the small dining table—plates clinking, napkins unfolding—until everything sat just right.

I drew back the curtains. Sunlight flooded in, glinting off the city skyline far below.

Ria’s presence turned it all golden. I reached over, ruffling her hair as she forked a massive bite of pancake, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk.

Even in a dim room, she’d chase away shadows.

“You know what?” I said, breaking the quiet punctuated only by the scrape of forks.

Ria looked up, a chunk of pancake hovering mid-air on her fork. Her hazel eyes—mirrors of mine—widened.

“What, Mom?”

“How about shopping? Just you and me?”

Her face lit up; the fork clattered to the plate. She launched across the table, arms flinging around my neck in a fierce hug, squealing loud enough to ring in my ears.

“Yes! Yes yes yes!”

“Okay, okay.” I patted her back, chuckling as sticky syrup smeared across my shirt from her fingers. “Easy there.”

She squeezed tighter, oblivious.

“Oh my—” Laughter bubbled out of me. “You’re already a whirlwind. Go get dressed. I’ll wait outside.”

The words barely left my mouth before she vaulted from my lap, feet pattering in a blur, door slamming shut behind her.

I sat there, smile stretching so wide my cheeks ached, staring at the empty doorway.

Soon, we sped along Southern California’s bustling highways, Ria’s voice a constant, excited chatter in my ears.

“Another teddy bear, Mom! Then a diary—no, two!” She ticked them off on her fingers, crossing each one with dramatic flair.

I laughed softly, easing over a curb into the mall’s parking lot.

She unbuckled and bounded out before I’d fully stopped, dashing toward the entrance. I jogged to keep up, her energy pulling me along.

I wanted this day etched in her memory forever. Her carefree bounces stirred old joys I’d buried deep.

We wove through crowded corridors, her ponytail swinging as she darted store to store. I trailed, grinning at her delight in anything glittery or colorful. Hours blurred: racks of clothes rustled under our hands, dresses slipped on and off in fitting rooms, laughter echoing.

In one boutique, she clutched a yellow sundress dotted with white flowers. “Mommy, Mommy, can I try it?”

Her eyes pleaded, shining. I nodded.

She twirled before the mirror, fabric flaring around her knees, giggles spilling out.

As she changed back, I caught the saleswoman’s eye and nodded. “We’ll take it.”

Ria emerged, spotted the bag in my hand, and squealed again, bouncing on her toes.

We pressed on—sparkly shoes that caught every light, a plastic tiara perched crookedly on her head, a bag of candies clutched like treasure, and finally, the teddy bear she’d begged for.

Her joy radiated, warming me from the inside out.

“Done now?” I asked at the checkout, bags piling up.

“Yes, Mom. Thank you!” Her grin beamed pure gratitude.

“Lunch before home?”

She nodded eagerly.

We claimed a table in the cafeteria just outside the mall. She devoured chicken nuggets, dipping each in sauce with focused delight, while I nursed a coffee.

For a stretch, the world felt whole.

Then her cheeks flushed deeper than excitement warranted. Small red patches bloomed on her arms, her neck.

I leaned closer. “Baby?”

“Mommy, my skin itches.” Her voice quivered; she scratched at her forearm, nails leaving white trails that pinked instantly.

My pulse quickened. I scanned her face—lips puffing slightly, eyes rimming with swelling.

No. Not this.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Mommy’s got you.” My words came steady, but my hands trembled as I cupped her chin.

Her breathing hitched, shallow and raspy. Cheeks ballooned further; hives spread like wildfire across her skin.

I bolted up, chair scraping back. “We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

I snatched her hand—hot, clammy—and pulled her through the crowd, shoving past shoppers, apologies tumbling out unheard.

Her little fingers squeezed mine harder. Tremors ran through her body; wheezes escaped with each step.

My heart hammered against ribs. Blood roared in my ears. Visions flashed—her tiny form still, unmoving—and I ran faster, cradling her against me when her legs faltered.

Near the exit, her grip slackened. A weak gasp: “Mommy... I... can’t... breathe...”

The world narrowed—sounds muffled, lights blurred. My chest seized; breath stalled.

I burst through the doors, screaming for help, clutching her as if I could force air into her lungs myself.

Why was everything going south?