Chapter 85 Ocean Aniala
Deborah didn’t wait until she reached her apartment before calling him. There was something she remmebered when her and luther are in the seaside.
The moment the car door closed and the city lights blurred past her window, her fingers were already shaking around her phone, her chest still heavy with unanswered questions that refused to settle. Luther’s words echoed relentlessly in her mind, repeating themselves like a promise she hadn’t yet been allowed to understand.
Come with me. There’s something you need to see. And once you do… everything will make sense.
The line rang only once before he answered.
“Hey there, my baby,” Luther said, his voice instantly alert, as if he had been waiting for her call just as much as she had been fighting the urge to make it.
She swallowed hard, steadying her breathing. “What did you mean earlier?” she asked quietly, skipping every greeting she normally would have offered.
“When you said there’s something I need to see… what were you talking about there, Luther?”
There was a brief pause on the other end, not long enough to feel like hesitation, but long enough to feel deliberate. “Are you free right now?” he asked gently. “Because this isn’t something I can explain over the phone.”
Her fingers tightened around the device. “Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “Tell me where.”
An hour later, she found herself standing in the quiet corridor of a private hospital wing, the sterile scent of disinfectant hanging in the air as Luther walked beside her, his expression unusually calm yet guarded, as though he was bracing himself for her reaction. Deborah kept glancing around, confusion knotting tighter with every step they took deeper into the building.
“Why are we here luther?” she asked again, unable to keep the unease from her voice. “Luther.... you’re not answering me. What does a hospital have to do with anything you said are you kidding me?”
“You’ll understand soon, baby,” he replied softly, slowing his pace as they approached a secured section of the floor. “I just need you to trust me for a few more minutes.”
Trust.
The word settled heavily in her chest, but she followed him anyway, because despite everything, some part of her still believed that Luther would never bring her somewhere without a reason.
They stopped in front of a glass wall marked Neonatal Care Unit, the soft hum of machines audible even from outside. Deborah’s steps faltered instinctively as she looked through the transparent barrier, her breath catching at the sight of tiny cribs, soft lighting, and fragile lives sleeping beneath careful watch.
“Luther….....” she whispered, her voice trembling now. “Why are we in the baby room?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gently guided her forward, opening the door with quiet precision and leading her inside, where everything felt smaller, quieter, more delicate than the world she had been drowning in.
And then she saw her.
Alaina stood near one of the cribs, dressed simply, her hair pulled back, her posture protective as she cradled a small bundle against her chest. The moment Deborah’s eyes landed on the baby, time seemed to slow, the air leaving her lungs in one sharp, silent breath.
The baby was tiny, fragile, connected to thin tubes and monitored by softly blinking machines, yet impossibly beautiful in a way that hurt to look at.
Alaina turned when she sensed them, surprise flickering briefly across her face before softening into something gentle, almost relieved.
“Deborah,” she said quietly, her voice warm despite the exhaustion lining her features. “I didn’t know you were.... coming.”
Deborah couldn’t speak.
Her gaze remained locked on the baby, her chest tightening painfully as she stepped closer without realizing it. “She’s…” Her voice broke before she could finish. “She’s yours?”
Alaina nodded slowly, adjusting her hold so Deborah could see the child’s face more clearly. “One month old,” she said softly. “Her name is Ocean Aniala.”
Deborah froze.
“Ocean…?” she echoed, her breath shaky.
Alaina smiled faintly, eyes glistening as she looked down at the baby. “I named her Ocean because of you,” she admitted gently. “Deborah Occeaniá… and you always reminded me of something strong and endless, even when you didn’t realize it yourself.” Her lips curved slightly. “And Aniala is just Alaina, reversed. I wanted her name to carry pieces of both strength and survival.”
Tears welled instantly in Deborah’s eyes, blurring her vision as emotion crashed into her all at once, overwhelming and uncontrollable. She lifted a trembling hand to cover her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she struggled to breathe through the sudden ache in her chest.
Luther noticed immediately. He stepped closer, his voice low and concerned. “Hey, baby” he murmured, placing a gentle hand on her back. “Why are you crying, what happened?”
She shook her head, tears slipping free despite her efforts to stop them. “I’m not… I don’t know,” she whispered honestly. “I’m just… happy. And sad. All at the same time.”
Her gaze softened as she looked at Ocean again, at the quiet rise and fall of her tiny chest. “She’s so beautiful,” Deborah said, her voice breaking completely now. “But she’s sick…”
Alaina nodded, her expression tightening. “She was born premature,” she explained softly. “She’s strong, though. Stronger than she looks.”
Deborah turned to Alaina then, guilt flooding her features as realization finally settled into place. “I’m sorry, I'm very very sorry, Alaina.....” she said quietly, the words heavy with sincerity. “For what I thought… for believing things without knowing the truth. I never meant to hurt you.”
Alaina’s eyes softened, and she stepped closer, shaking her head gently. “You don’t need to apologize, that was just all a show,” she replied. “Fear makes people imagine things that were never there. I understand.”
Luther watched the exchange silently, his chest tight but lighter somehow, as though a long-buried weight had finally begun to lift.
Deborah wiped her tears slowly, taking one last look at Ocean, her heart aching yet strangely warm. She finally understood now why Luther had brought her here, why he had said everything would make sense.
Because this wasn’t betrayal.
It was truth.
And as Deborah stood there, surrounded by fragile life and quiet honesty, she didn’t realize yet that this revelation was only one piece of a much larger truth still waiting to surface… one that would soon connect the past, the present, and the name Valmere in ways none of them were ready for.