Chapter 35 035
EMILY
Time passed after Ryan left, but the silence in the hospital room didn’t ease the way I’d expected it to. It thickened instead, pressing in from every corner until it felt like I was breathing it in.
Zara slept on, her small chest rising and falling beneath the thin blanket, monitors beside her beeping softly in a steady rhythm. It sounded almost like a lullaby—one no parent ever wanted to learn by heart.
I sat stiffly in the chair beside her bed, afraid to move too much, afraid to wake her, afraid that if I relaxed even for a second something terrible would happen.
My arms were wrapped around myself, fingers gripping the sleeves of my hoodie like they were the only thing holding me together.
Morgan sat across from me, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone. She looked casual, relaxed even, but I knew her too well. She wasn’t really reading anything. She was watching me from the corner of her eye, tracking every breath, every flinch, every silent tear I tried to hide.
Finally, she cleared her throat.
“Come on, Em,” she said gently. “You know what you did to him was unfair.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
I shifted in my chair and pulled my knees up to my chest, curling in on myself like a shield. “There’s nothing wrong with what I did,” I said, too quickly.
Morgan lowered her phone and gave me that look—the one she saved for moments like this. The one that said she loved me but wasn’t going to let me lie to myself.
“Really?” she asked. “There’s nothing wrong with not letting a father see his own child after surgery?”
My chest tightened. I looked away, focusing on the slow rise and fall of Zara’s breathing. “I was not thinking,” I admitted quietly. “Okay? I was not.”
Morgan sighed and scooted her chair closer until our knees almost touched. Her voice softened. “What happened?”
I sniffed and wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie, already damp from earlier tears. “I saw him with some other girl,” I said. The words tasted bitter. “He said she was just comforting him and all that bullshit, but I think he’s moved on, Mo. I really do. He’s moving on.”
Saying it out loud hurt worse than keeping it inside.
Morgan’s expression softened. “And you don’t want him to move on?”
I shook my head, tears spilling faster now, blurring everything. “I thought we could still have what we had,” I whispered. “Or at least… something close to it. My feelings are so messed up and jumbled together. I don’t know if I’m thinking straight anymore.”
She didn’t say anything right away. She just reached over and squeezed my knee, grounding me.
Before she could respond, Zara stirred.
“Mum?”
Her voice was small. Sleepy. Thin in a way that made my heart lurch painfully.
I wiped my face fast, forcing a smile as I leaned over the bed rail. “Hey, my strong girl,” I said softly.
Morgan leaned in too, her smile bright and genuine. “Hi, beautiful. How’s my favorite patient?”
Zara’s lips curved into a weak giggle. “I want to be a doctor,” she said seriously, “and not a baker like Mummy.”
The laugh that escaped me surprised us both. It was real—sharp and sudden and full of relief. I reached over and brushed her curls back from her forehead, my fingers trembling. “How are you feeling, my sweet girl?”
“I’m so strong,” she declared proudly, puffing out her chest as much as the tubes and wires allowed.
“Of course you are,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “The strongest.”
For a brief moment, the world shrank down to just us—the three of us wrapped in that fragile bubble of love and relief.
Then someone cleared their throat at the door.
The sound was quiet, almost polite, but it cut through the moment like glass.
I looked up.
Ryan stood there.
He looked exhausted in a way that went far beyond lack of sleep. His hair was rumpled, his shirt wrinkled like he’d slept in it, dark shadows etched beneath his eyes. But his shoulders were squared, his posture careful and controlled—the way he always held himself together when Zara was watching. Like he refused to fall apart in front of her.
Behind him, two older figures hovered in the hallway, half-hidden by the doorframe.
I recognized them instantly.
Cecilia. And her husband.
Ryan’s parents.
My stomach dropped so hard it felt like the floor shifted under my feet.
Ryan’s voice was quiet when he spoke, careful, like he was stepping onto thin ice and knew it. “Emily… Zara’s grandparents are here to see her.”
I stood up so fast my chair scraped loudly against the floor, the harsh sound echoing in the room. “What?”
Cecilia didn’t wait for permission. She stepped inside immediately, eyes already shining with tears, one hand flying up to her mouth as if she were holding in a sob.
Ryan’s father followed more slowly, his movements hesitant, his expression apologetic in a way that told me he understood exactly how loaded this moment was.
“Oh my baby,” Cecilia breathed as she rushed to the bed.
Zara’s face lit up like the sun breaking through thick clouds. Her exhaustion vanished in an instant. She grinned wide, showing every tooth, eyes sparkling. “Grandma!”
My heart melted.
Just for a moment.
I watched as Cecilia reached for Zara’s hand, her fingers trembling as they brushed over the tiny bandage, the IV line taped to her arm. “Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Grandma’s here. You scared us.”
Zara squeezed her hand proudly. “I’m strong.”
“I know,” Cecilia said, laughing softly through her tears. “Just like your daddy.”
Ryan’s father stepped closer too, his face gentle, almost reverent. “You did great, kiddo.”
I stood there, suddenly unsure of where to put myself. My emotions twisted together—relief that Zara was surrounded by love, resentment that they hated me so much, fear that this moment was shifting something I couldn’t control.
I glanced at Ryan.
He was still in the doorway, arms folded, eyes locked on Zara like she was the only thing in the room that mattered. And in that moment, I knew it was true. Everything else—me, his parents, the past—fell away when it came to her.
I moved closer to him, lowering my voice so only he could hear.
“We have to talk.”