Chapter 65 The hum of the living
The storm had retreated, leaving behind a world that smelled of damp earth and renewed hope, but inside the house, the air remained thick with a restless, unresolved energy. It was a Saturday afternoon—the kind of afternoon that should have been defined by the mundane comfort of family. The television was a low hum in the corner, broadcasting a vibrant, loud game show that Leo was watching with rapt attention, his small feet kicking against the fabric of the sofa.
My mother sat in her favorite armchair, her knitting needles clicking a steady, rhythmic staccato. Maya was sprawled on the rug beside Leo, trying to build a tower of blocks that he kept knocking down with a mischievous giggle.
"Leo, if you knock this down one more time, I’m going to tell the tooth fairy you’ve been retiring early," Maya joked, dodging a flying plastic brick. "I’m trying to build an empire here, and you’re acting like a one-man wrecking ball."
"I’m a dinosaur, Maya!" Leo roared, his voice filled with the pure, uncomplicated joy of childhood. "Dinosaurs don't like empires. They like smashing!"
"Well, this dinosaur needs to learn some structural engineering," my mother chimed in, her eyes crinkling as she looked up from her wool. "Elena, look at him. He has your stubborn streak. Once he decides a tower shouldn't stand, no amount of logic will save it."
I tried to smile, but it felt like a costume I was wearing. I was perched on the edge of the kitchen stool, my phone gripped so tightly in my hand that the casing felt warm. My thumb hovered over the screen, refreshing my call logs every thirty seconds.
Nothing.
No international code from Istanbul to tell me that Victor had made it off the table. No unknown number from Liam to explain why he had vanished into the night like a ghost. I felt like a woman caught between two gravitational pulls one moving toward a brilliant, uncertain future in Paris, and the other dragging me back into the murky, misunderstood depths of my past.
"El, you’ve been staring at that screen so hard I’m surprised it hasn't caught fire," Maya said, leaning back on her elbows and looking at me with concern. "Come here. Tell Leo why the dinosaur shouldn't eat the architect."
"I... I’m just waiting for Vane to check in," I lied, my voice sounding hollow. "The surgery was supposed to be over hours ago. The time difference is confusing, but I thought I’d hear something by now."
"Victor is a Blackwood, Elena," my mother said, her voice steady and grounding. "He wouldn't dream of leaving a surgery unfinished. He’s likely in recovery, being difficult with the nurses. No news is good news in a hospital, you know that better than anyone."
"And Liam?" Maya asked softly, her eyes searching mine. "Any word from the man of mystery?"
"Voicemail," I whispered. "Monica was right. His apartment is empty. He’s just... gone. It’s like he waited until he could tell me his side, and the moment he saw I didn't believe him, he closed the book."
"Maybe that's for the best," Maya suggested, though her tone lacked its usual bite. "If he’s gone, he can't complicate things. You have your answer from the clinic. You have your path. Let the ghosts stay in the fog, El."
I nodded, but the confusion in my chest was a physical ache. If Liam was telling the truth about Monica—if he had spent his recovery fighting for a stranger’s children while I was busy falling in love with his employer then the "good girl" I thought I was had been remarkably blind.
"Come on," I said, standing up and trying to shake off the gloom. "The sink is full of lunch dishes. Maya, help me clear them before Mom starts eyeing them with that 'lazy children' look."
"Hey! I’m an architect-dinosaur-wrangler today," Maya protested, but she stood up anyway, ruffling Leo’s hair.
We retreated to the kitchen, the clatter of plates and the splash of warm water providing a temporary distraction. Maya scrubbed while I rinsed, the steam from the sink rising up to dampen my hair. For a few minutes, we talked about nothing the latest neighborhood gossip, the dress designs I needed to finalize for the Rossi internship, the color of the nursery we hadn't even started to plan.
But as I reached for a heavy ceramic bowl, the world suddenly tilted.
The steam from the sink didn't feel warm anymore; it felt suffocating. A sharp, icy needle of vertigo pierced through my temples, and the bright yellow of the kitchen walls seemed to bleed into a dizzying blur. My knees buckled, and the bowl slipped from my fingers, shattering against the floor with a deafening crack.
"Elena!" Maya shrieked, catching my arm before I could follow the bowl down.
"I’m... I’m okay," I gasped, but my voice felt like it was coming from the bottom of a well. The room was spinning in slow, sickening circles, and the metallic taste of iron flooded my mouth. "Just got... a bit lightheaded."
My mother was there in a heartbeat, her knitting forgotten. She shoved Maya aside with a strength I forgot she possessed and guided me toward the small daybed in the breakfast nook.
"Sit. Down. Now," she commanded, her voice thick with authority. She pressed a cool, damp cloth against my forehead, her eyes scanning my face with clinical intensity. "You’re grey, Elena. Your heart is racing so fast I can see it in your neck."
"It’s just the standing... the heat from the water," I tried to protest, but she held up a hand to silence me.
"It’s the stress," she countered, her voice dropping to a low, fierce hiss. "You’ve spent the day at a restaurant with the Jenkins, then in the rain with that poor girl, and all the while your mind is ten thousand miles away in a Turkish hospital. Elena, you need to rest. You are carrying a person now. You aren't just a nurse or a designer anymore you are a vessel."
She went to the cupboard and pulled out the prenatal vitamins and a mild, pregnancy-safe sedative the doctor had mentioned for my anxiety. She poured a glass of water and held it to my lips.
"Take this," she ordered. "And then you are going to lie here until the sun goes down. Do you understand me? This stress... it’s not just hurting you. It will harm the baby. Victor wouldn't want his child at risk because you're trying to carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders."
"I just need to know he's okay, Mom," I whispered, the tears finally breaking through. "I feel so confused. Everything I thought I knew about the last year is shifting, and I don't know who to trust or what to feel."
"Trust your body," my mother said, stroking my hair. "And trust the life inside you. That’s the only truth that matters right now. The men will figure themselves out, Elena. They always do. But right now, your job is to be still."
I leaned my head back against the pillow, the medication beginning to weave a dull, heavy blanket over my frayed nerves. The hum of the TV in the other room felt distant, like a memory of a different life. I looked at my phone, lying silent on the coffee table. No calls. No explanations. No miracles.
Just the steady, quiet rhythm of my mother’s breathing and the soft weight of the secret I held in my womb. I closed my eyes, letting the darkness take me, praying that when I woke up, the world would finally make sense again.