Chapter 91 Odd feeling
“Thank you for doing this, Leitana. I can’t thank you enough,” Lafu said, her voice thick with emotion. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Leitana in a tight, grateful hug, holding her for a long moment.
When she pulled away, Leitana looked at her with wide, surprised eyes, cheeks flushing slightly. “Yu no need tank mi,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Mi do dis for justice. For Celeste. For right thing.”
She turned to the others standing behind Lafu, Anya, Diego, Jules, Marco, Stacy, all watching her with quiet smiles, eyes shining with something close to awe.
Lafu touched Leitana’s cheek gently, her thumb brushing a stray strand of hair. “No, we have to thank you. Because with you by our side… I really know for sure we’re going to get somewhere. You’re not corrupted by this world. You’re still innocent, but your view of it isn’t naive. It’s… clear. Strong.”
Anya nodded, voice soft. “You see things we stopped seeing a long time ago.”
Jules smiled faintly. “You give us hope we didn’t have before.”
Marco crossed his arms, grinning. “And you scared the hell out of Valentina without even raising your voice. That’s talent.”
Stacy laughed quietly. “You’re like a secret weapon wrapped in sunshine.”
Diego adjusted his glasses, serious. “You’re the reason we’re not backing down anymore.”
Leitana’s cheeks warmed deeper, eyes darting between them, overwhelmed. “Mi… mi jus’ do what mi feel right.”
Lafu squeezed her hand. “And that’s exactly why we need you.”
Anya glanced at her watch. “It’s two o’clock already. You should head home, get some rest. We’ll handle cleanup here and officially start tomorrow.”
Stacy nodded. “If my guy cracks the USB and SD card tonight, we’ll have whatever’s on them ready by morning. And Willow shoot’s at four downtown. Come by if you can, like you’re just dropping in to watch a campaign. Jules will be there; we’ll find a way to get her talking.”
Leitana’s eyes widened. “Shoot, mi forget! Mi have piano lessons tomorrow afternoon. Juilliard Extension.”
Marco winced. “Right. Classes.”
Lafu tilted her head. “Afternoon sessions, right? What time?”
Leitana shrugged helplessly. “Mi no sure exact….Mrs Markov say come when mi ready, but mi think after lunch.”
Anya smiled reassuringly. “The shoot starts at four. If you can make it after class, great. If not, we’ll still try to get something out of Willow. We’ll text you updates.”
Leitana nodded, relieved. “Okay. Mi try come.”
The group exchanged hugs and quiet goodbyes, promises to message in the group chat they created.
Leitana stepped out into the hallway, the waiting black car already idling in the garage below. One of Ravial’s drivers held the door open for her. She slid into the back seat, waving one last time as the others disappeared behind the closing elevator doors.
The car pulled smoothly into traffic.
Almost immediately, a wave of dizziness crashed over her.
Leitana’s vision blurred at the edges, chest tightening, breath coming short and shallow. She recognized the symptoms at once, her illness flaring, the one she’d hidden so carefully from almost everyone. Stress, exhaustion, the weight of the day, it was catching up.
She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, bowing her head.
“Papa God,” she whispered, voice trembling but fervent. “Tank Yu for today. For friends. For truth starting to come out. Mi scared, but mi trust Yu. Give mi strength. Help mi carry dis. Help Celeste find peace. And… keep Ravial safe. Let him no be angry when mi tell him more.”
A soft warmth settled over her, like a blanket. The dizziness eased, breath steadying. She felt it, the gentle presence she always recognized as God’s comfort. Her eyes fluttered shut, tension draining from her body.
She fell asleep, head resting against the cool window.
The next time she woke, the car had stopped. One of the guards opened the door carefully.
“We’re home, Mrs. Ashbourne.”
Leitana blinked, groggy and weak, legs unsteady as she stepped out. The villa loomed grand and quiet in the late afternoon light.
“Where Ravial?” she asked softly, voice hoarse.
“Still at the office, ma’am.”
She nodded, a quiet ache in her chest. She missed him, his arms, his voice, the way he made the world feel steady. But she didn’t want to disturb him.
The guards escorted her inside.
The grand foyer echoed with her soft footsteps.
Then Avery.
Her twin sister stood at the foot of the staircase, arms crossed, eyes sharp with that familiar mix of worry and frustration.
“Leitana, where have you been? You look half-dead, and Ravial’s people wouldn’t tell me anything, and.m.”
Leitana tried to smile, lifting a hand. “Avery… mi okay, jus’ tired….”
The world tilted.
Her vision darkened at the edges.
She swayed.
And then nothing.
Leitana crumpled to the marble floor, unconscious before she hit the ground.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“What did you do to my sister? Is this fainting spell normal?”
The voices swirled around Leitana like distant echoes as consciousness slowly crept back. Her eyelids felt heavy, glued shut, but she forced them open, blinking against the soft light of their bedroom. She was lying on the large bed, a cool cloth on her forehead, her head resting on a pillow.
Ravial sat beside her, one large hand gently holding hers, his thumb tracing slow circles over her knuckles. His blindfolded face was turned toward her, jaw tight, the only visible sign of tension.
Avery stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes wide with worry and anger. The family doctor, Dr. Elena Ramírez, an elegant woman in her fifties who made discreet house calls for the Ashbournes knelt on Leitana’s other side, packing away a blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope.
Leitana tried to sit up, but Ravial’s free hand pressed lightly on her shoulder. “Lay down,” he said, voice calm but firm, the deep timbre washing over her like a balm.
She relaxed back, clutching his hand tighter. “Ravial…” she murmured, relief flooding her at his nearness.
“I’m here,” he answered quietly.
Dr. Ramírez finished closing her bag and looked at them both, expression professional but gentle.
“This is just a flare-up of her Lyran-Floros Syndrome,” she explained. “The symptoms we’ve been monitoring, dizziness, shortness of breath, sudden loss of consciousness are the body’s way of protecting itself when energy demand spikes. Stress, exhaustion, emotional intensity… they all trigger it. There’s not much we can do beyond managing triggers: rest, low stress, consistent meals, hydration. Medication can ease some symptoms, but it doesn’t slow the progression.”
Avery’s voice cracked. “What do you mean ‘doesn’t slow the progression’? What does that mean now?”
Dr. Ramírez met her gaze steadily. “The prognosis remains the same. Four to six months from initial diagnosis. We’re roughly two months in. These episodes will likely become more frequent as her mitochondrial function declines further.”
Avery’s face drained of color. “You’re saying my sister has… weeks? Months to live?”
The doctor nodded once, compassionate but direct. “Yes. And episodes like this are warnings the reserves are running low.”
Ravial’s grip on Leitana’s hand tightened fractionally not painful, just grounding. He nodded to the doctor. “Thank you, Elena. We’ll follow the protocol.”
Dr. Ramírez stood, gathering her things. “Call me anytime, day or night. I’ll adjust the meds if needed.” She gave Leitana a soft smile. “Rest, dear. You’re in good hands.”
The door closed quietly behind her.
Avery rounded on Ravial immediately. “You knew? You knew she was dying and you didn’t tell me? How long have you been keeping this from our family?”
Ravial’s voice was ice. “Get out.”
Avery flinched. “Excuse me?”
“Out,” he repeated, colder. “Now.”
Avery’s eyes filled with tears of anger, fear, betrayal. She looked at Leitana, who was trembling faintly against Ravial’s side, eyes closed, breathing shallow.
“This isn’t over,” Avery whispered, voice breaking, before storming out, the door slamming behind her.
Silence fell.
Leitana’s body shook harder, small sobs catching in her throat. She pressed closer to Ravial, burying her face against his chest.
He wrapped both arms around her carefully, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other stroking her spine in slow, soothing lines.
“Shh, little lamb,” he murmured against her curls, voice softer than anyone else would ever hear. “I’ve got you. Breathe.”
She clung to him, tears soaking his shirt. “Mi… mi scare yu angry… mi faint… mi sorry…”
“I’m not angry,” he said quietly, lips brushing her temple. “Never at you for this.”
He held her until the shaking eased, until her breathing steadied, until she was limp and trusting in his arms again.
Only then did he speak again, voice low, fierce, laced with that unhinged devotion only she ever drew from him.
“You will rest. You will eat. You will let me take care of you. And you will live every single day you have left exactly as you want, bright, full, surrounded by everything beautiful.”
He tilted her chin up gently, thumb wiping her tears.
“Because every one of those days is mine. And I’m not giving a single one away.”
Leitana looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed but shining with trust.
“Yes, Ravial,” she whispered.
And in his arms, for that moment, the ticking clock felt just a little farther away.