Chapter One Hundred And Fifty

One Week Later

Martha was still in the NICU. She was stronger than she had been, her tiny body fighting every single day, but she was still so fragile.

Sofia never left her side.

She sat in the recliner beside the incubator, eyes locked on our daughter. Her body was still recovering, her movements slow and careful, but she didn't seem to care. The doctors and nurses had to remind her to rest, to eat, but she only did so reluctantly, as if every second away from Martha was a second wasted.

And me?

I stood just outside the room, watching.

I had been inside, had held Martha once under Sofia's insistent gaze, but I still couldn't shake the fear that gripped me whenever I looked at her.

She was so small. Too small.

What if I wasn't enough?

What if I failed her, the same way I had failed Javier?

The guilt sat heavy in my chest, an anchor I couldn't shake.

"Rodriguez."

I stiffened at the voice behind me and turned to see Dr. Reyes watching me with a knowing expression. He was an older man, his dark hair streaked with gray, his face lined with years of experience.

"She's doing well," he said, nodding toward the incubator. "Better than we expected."

I swallowed. "And Sofia?"

Dr. Reyes sighed. "Physically, she's healing. Emotionally… well, you already know."

Yeah. I knew.

She had barely spoken about Javier since that day. She had cried, had whispered his name against Martha's tiny hands, but she hadn't truly talked about him.

Neither had I.

Dr. Reyes studied me for a moment before speaking again. "You should go inside."

I looked away. "Sofia's with her."

"And?"

I tensed. "She doesn't need me there."

Dr. Reyes didn't reply immediately. He let the silence stretch between us before sighing. "The first time I lost a child in the NICU, I couldn't go home for three days. I sat in my office, staring at the wall, wondering what I could have done differently. Wondering if I had failed that baby, if I had failed the parents who had trusted me."

I looked at him sharply.

He held my gaze. "You can carry the guilt for the rest of your life, Rodriguez. You can let it drown you. But your daughter is alive. She's here. And she needs you."

His words hit deep, deeper than I wanted to admit.

Without another word, Dr. Reyes patted my shoulder and walked away, leaving me standing there, torn between the fear gripping my chest and the undeniable truth he had just spoken.

I looked back into the NICU.

Sofia was still there, her fingers brushing against the incubator, her lips moving in a soft whisper.

Martha was stable, but she still needed oxygen support, her tiny chest rising and falling with effort. She was fighting, just like Sofia had.

And I-

I needed to fight too.

With a deep breath, I forced my feet forward, stepping into the room.

Sofia glanced up at the sound of my approach. Her hazel eyes were tired, but there was a warmth there too-an invitation.

I swallowed hard, stepping closer until I was beside her.

For a moment, we just stood there, staring down at our daughter.

"She opened her eyes today," Sofia whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Just for a few seconds."

Something tightened in my chest.

Slowly, carefully, I reached out. My fingers trembled as they brushed against the incubator's plastic surface.

"She's strong," I murmured.

Sofia nodded, her eyes glistening. "She gets that from you."

I let out a shaky breath, shaking my head. "No," I murmured. "She gets that from you, Sofia."

Sofia turned to me, her hazel eyes searching mine. "Rodriguez-"

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep going. "She fought to be here. Just like you. After everything you've been through, after everything that's been taken from you, you still found the strength to fight. And now she's doing the same."

The old me would never have agreed to this.

The old Theo would have fought, would have found a way to keep her here, to make her stay no matter the cost.

But as I looked at my daughter-so small, so fragile, fighting for every breath-I imagined someone treating her the way I had treated Sofia.

I imagined her trapped in a loveless arrangement, stripped of choices, forced into a life that suffocated her.

I would never allow it.

Not for Martha.

Not for Sofia.

A heavy breath left my lips, and I forced myself to nod. "Fine." My voice was quiet, but the weight of the word filled the space between us. "I'll give you everything you need. A house. Money. Whatever you want."

Sofia blinked, as if she hadn't expected me to agree so easily. "Theo…"

I turned to her, my gaze steady. "But not yet."

She tensed.

"After my mother's burial," I clarified. "Stay until then."

She hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay."

A silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we weren't saying.

Then, she exhaled and looked at me again. "I don't want to stay in New York."

My brows furrowed. "Where do you want to go?"

"England." Her voice was firm. Certain. "I want to move to England."

Something in my chest tightened. England was far.

Very far.

But I had made my decision.

And this time, I wouldn't fight her.

I held her gaze, the finality in her words settling deep inside me.

England.

That was a world away. A different country, a different life. A place where I wouldn't be able to just show up at her doorstep whenever I wanted. A place where she could truly be free of me.

The old me would have never allowed it.

But I wasn't that man anymore.

I exhaled slowly, the weight of my decision pressing against my chest. Then, I nodded. "Okay."

Sofia's lips parted slightly, her hazel eyes widening. "Okay?" she echoed, almost like she didn't believe I meant it.

I swallowed, forcing myself to say it again. "Okay. If that's what you want… I won't stop you."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her expression-relief, maybe even sadness. But she quickly masked it, nodding as she looked away.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The words stung more than they should have.

I had spent so much time trying to control her, trying to keep her in my world, convinced that she belonged to me. But she never did. She had always belonged to herself.

And I had nearly destroyed her because I couldn't see that.

"I'll make sure everything is ready," I said after a beat. "You'll have a house, financial support, whatever you need."

Sofia nodded, her fingers tightening against the incubator. "I just want a fresh start, Theo."

I glanced down at our daughter, watching the steady rise and fall of her tiny chest. "And Martha?" My voice was quieter now.

Sofia hesitated before meeting my eyes again. "We'll figure it out. I don't want to take her away from you, but I also don't want her growing up in this world."

I clenched my jaw, but I didn't argue. She was right.

Martha deserved better than the life I had built.

"I'll visit," I said after a moment. "I don't care how far England is. She's still my daughter."

Sofia's lips trembled slightly, but she nodded. "I know."

Silence settled between us, thick and unspoken.

This was it.

The end of whatever we had been.

And the beginning of something new.