Chapter 210

Chapter 210

A strange, wondrous sensation welled up inside her.

Alicia, too, was overcome by emotion. Tears finally slipped down her cheeks.

She didn't sob aloud—just quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand, then lowered it again, suppressing her feelings with practiced restraint.

"I need to tell Edward," Molly said quietly.

Alicia watched as she pushed back the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The words of caution rose to her lips, urging Molly to rest, but she swallowed them down.

"All right. I'll help you."

Edward's room was at the far end of the hallway.

When Molly pushed open the door, Michael was already there—standing by the window, though she hadn't heard him arrive.

He turned at the sound, and his expression tightened the moment he saw her face. "Why aren't you in bed?"

She didn't answer. She simply crossed the room slowly and sank into the chair beside Edward's bed.

Michael studied her for a moment, then let it go. Without another word, he slipped out and gently closed the door behind him.

The room fell silent. Edward lay motionless, his face even paler than the day before. His lips were chapped, his lashes still. Not a flicker of movement.

Molly reached out and took his hand.

Still cold.

She pressed it against her cheek, willing the warmth of her palm to seep into his fingertips.

"Edward," she said softly, "I'm pregnant."

Edward didn't stir. His breathing remained shallow and even.

"I'm scared," she admitted, her voice dropping. Her throat tightened. "I'm scared you won't wake up. Scared the baby will never meet their father. Scared of being alone."

The moment the words left her lips, she froze.

In her palm, his hand—just barely—moved.

She thought she'd imagined it.

Holding her breath, she turned his hand over, palm-up, and stared at his fingers.

It moved again. Then, one by one, all five fingers twitched.

Her eyes burned. Her voice cracked. She gripped his hand tighter. "Edward, you can hear me, can't you?"

His lashes trembled.

Molly gave his arm a gentle shake, her excitement spilling over. "Open your eyes. Look at me. It's me—it's Molly."

Slowly, Edward's eyelids lifted. His pupils contracted slightly in the light, his vision sharpening from blur to clarity.

He took in his surroundings. Then, at last, his gaze settled on Molly's slightly haggard face.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, her nose pink, her hair disheveled.

But even like this, she was breathtaking.

He looked at her for a long moment. His lips parted, but no sound came at first. He coughed lightly, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"You… you just said you're pregnant?"

"Yes. Four weeks along."

She didn't smile. Didn't cry. She just looked at him, her eyes holding a fragile hope she was trying desperately to contain.

Edward didn't respond right away.

His gaze drifted from her face down to her still-flat abdomen, and lingered there.

His eyes were as deep as ever, but something churned beneath the surface—dark, unfathomable.

Molly's heart sank.

Slowly, she let go of his hand.

"You don't want it?" she whispered.

Edward's gaze snapped back to her face.

"I do," he said.

He watched her, his throat working as if there were a thousand things lodged in his chest, and he didn't know where to begin.

"But I don't want—" His voice dropped suddenly, as though something had caught in his throat. "I don't want him to be born without a father."

Silence filled the room.

Molly lowered her head, staring at their joined hands.

"Edward," she began. She didn't look up. Her voice was quiet, but every word was clear. "My mother died when I was ten."

Edward's fingers tightened. His eyes filled with anguish.

"She was sick for a long time. I knew that day would come. But when it did… I couldn't handle it."

As she spoke, her gaze drifted somewhere far away.

To memories she rarely revisited.

"Edward, do you know how much pain I was in? I felt like the sky had fallen. No one was there to help me. No one to carry the weight for me."

She lifted her eyes to meet his. Light flickered in them like stars. "But I'm still here. I'm fine."

"I grieve. I miss her. When I see other mothers holding their daughters' hands while shopping, I think of her. When Celeste hurt me, I thought of her. But I don't regret being born."

She squeezed his hand, her expression fierce with sincerity. "She gave her life to bring me into this world. She was willing. And so am I."

Edward looked at her.

In those calm, steady eyes of hers, the walls of pretense crumbled.

"It's okay. It's all in the past," he said, gripping her hand with all the strength he had left—as if letting go would mean losing her forever.

Molly leaned forward, resting her forehead against his.

"I don't care about any of that anymore," she whispered. "I just want you."

Her breath fell warm against his face.

Edward closed his eyes.

It had been so long since he'd cried.

He couldn't even remember the last time.

But now, the heat building behind his eyelids—he couldn't suppress it. Didn't want to.

 

That night, Edward didn't sleep.

He lay in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

The IV had been removed.

Molly was asleep on the companion bed beside him, lying on her side, facing him. Her brow was still slightly furrowed.

Edward watched her, his gaze brimming with tender devotion.

Death had never felt so close. Close enough to touch.

There was no question—Molly's words earlier had shaken him to his core.

Maybe he shouldn't be so torn about this.

The answer was already in his heart. Gently, he closed his eyes.

 

The next morning, sunlight poured through the windows.

When Molly woke, Edward was watching her.

His complexion was still terrible, the shadows under his eyes darker than before. But something in his expression had shifted.

"Call my mother," he said, his tone solemn.

Molly blinked, startled, but didn't ask questions. She got up and went to fetch Alicia.

Alicia arrived quickly.

She hurried to the bedside, her eyes searching her son's face. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Much better. Mom, there's something I need to tell you." His voice was still rough, but resolute.

"I want the surgery."

Alicia froze.

So did Molly.

They exchanged a stunned glance.

Edward leaned back against the headboard, the blanket pulled up to his waist.

After speaking, he fell silent again, simply watching them with calm certainty.

"You…" Alicia's voice wavered. "But you said before—the success rate was too low. You said you wouldn't do it."

"Before, I didn't think it was worth it. Now I have a reason to live."

Alicia covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. "All I've ever wanted is for you to be okay."

Her voice broke into quiet sobs.

Molly stood still, her gaze locked on him. She rested her hand gently on his shoulder, her eyes soft. "Whatever you decide, I'll support you."

 

The night Edward announced his decision to have the surgery, Molly didn't sleep well.

Not because she was worried.

But because the weight that had pressed down on her heart for so long had finally shifted—and she didn't quite know how to feel without it.