Chapter 156 Boston Dreams

Chapter 156 Boston Dreams
Mia: POV

I sank into the leather seat of Nathan's private jet, watching clouds drift past below. Even with everything—Mom's diagnosis, the fear eating at me—there was something weirdly peaceful about being up here, like we'd left all our problems on the ground.

I couldn't help myself and wandered toward the cockpit where Richard sat, his hands moving across the controls like he'd been doing this forever.

"Holy shit," I breathed, watching him adjust something on what looked like a computer system.

"Richard, you look so cool operating that. I've always wanted to learn - is it difficult?" I asked with curiosity.

Richard laughed, glancing at Nathan. "Flying's all about understanding how air moves over wings, navigation systems..." He gestured at the panel. "...just like we learned in that project, right Nathan?"

Nathan's jaw tightened slightly. I caught the look between them—definitely something there.

"I can fly too," Nathan said suddenly, and was that jealousy in his voice? "If you want to learn, I could teach you. I'm certified for single and twin-engine."

I stared at him. "What? You fly planes? Since when? How did you never mention this?"

Nathan shrugged like it was nothing, but his eyes didn't meet mine. "Just a hobby."

I watched him casually check instruments and mutter something to Richard about altitude sensors. Who the hell was this guy I thought I knew?

Mom touched my shoulder gently. "You could learn someday, sweetheart. You'd be good at it."

The sunlight caught her face, making her look so thin and pale. Guilt hit me like a truck. Here I was getting excited about flying while my mother was dying.

I hugged her hard. "Mom, I'm sorry... I shouldn't be thinking about this stuff right now..."

She smoothed my hair with that smile that always made everything okay. "No, honey. I love seeing you excited. Don't stop living because of me."

Her words hit me right in the chest—comforting and heartbreaking at the same time.

To distract myself, I turned to Camellia. "How's Nola? Is she smiling yet? Does she recognize you guys?"

Camellia's face lit up as she pulled out her phone and clicked a video. "She's just starting to smile for real."

We watched baby Nola's face brighten , this perfect little smile spreading across her tiny features. Mom's eyes crinkled when she laughed, saying, "Three months and already so much personality. She looks just like you did."

Seeing Mom laugh made something loosen in my chest. I tried to burn the moment into my memory.

As we started descending, Nathan explained. "I booked us at a hotel near Dana-Farber. Nice place—you'll like it."

I squeezed his hand, grateful for how he'd handled everything.

Boston's skyline appeared below us. Please let this city give us good news, I thought.

The hotel was gorgeous—old building, modern inside, overlooking the Charles River.

Nathan laid out tomorrow's schedule. "Dr. Ramirez specializes in pancreatic cancer. His targeted therapy has helped a lot of patients."

"Dana-Farber's one of the top three cancer centers in the country," he added, which surprised me with how much he knew.

Mom sat by the window, sunlight outlining her small frame. My heart ached watching her—so fragile but still fighting.

After we rested, Camellia suggested, "Girls' trip? The appointment's tomorrow, so let's have fun today."

Mom hesitated about going, but I wanted to cheer her up, so I kept wheedling and persuading her to join us. Eventually, she gave in.

We walked Newbury Street, Mom moving slower than usual but her eyes bright as Camellia told stories about her previous Boston trips.

In a boutique, I found a blue dress for Mom. "This would look amazing with your eyes," I said, trying to sound normal.

When she came out of the fitting room, spinning gently in the blue fabric, I felt pure happiness. "Mom, you look beautiful." She looked like her old photos.

But as she turned, I noticed how loose the dress was in back, how thin her neck looked, how her collarbones stuck out.

"Do you like it?" she asked, and I nodded, forcing a smile while my throat closed up.

We kept shopping, but reality had crashed back in.

Mom noticed my mood shift. "I'm happy, really. This is a good day," she whispered, squeezing my hand.

In a jewelry store, I picked out a silver necklace with a simple pendant. "This is perfect for you. Simple but elegant."

Looking at her in the mirror—sick but still beautiful—I lost it completely.

I thought about how she might only have months left, that this could be our last shopping trip.

Tears came hard as I hugged her. "Mom, I hate that you're sick... I never even got to take care of you properly..."

She held me tight while other customers looked on sympathetically.

"Hey, look at me. We're taking her to see the best doctors in the country, and we haven't given up—not for a single second. Your mom is a fighter. Look how she's walked all this way today and is still smiling at us. We need to believe in her, and we need to believe in everything we're doing."

Mom wiped my tears. "She's right. Don't mourn me while I'm still here."

I tried to pull myself together. "I see..." But my heart knew the odds.

Back at the hotel, Nathan and Richard had dinner waiting.

After eating, I turned to Nathan. "I want to sleep with Mom tonight. I just need to be with her."

Mom protested. "You don't need to, honey. You should be with Nathan."

"Mom, please? Just tonight?"

Nathan nodded immediately. "Of course. I'm right next door if you need anything."

Later, lying next to Mom felt like being a kid again.

"Remember when I was seven and wanted ballet lessons?" I said. "You spent so much on shoes and costumes."

"Two months later I decided I wanted violin, and you just signed me up without complaining."

I thought about Dad dying early, how she'd raised me alone. "You never complained, always smiled through everything."

"You taught me to be strong, to get back up every time I fell."

In the dark, tears came again. "I don't know who I'd be without you..."

Mom held me like she used to when I had nightmares as a child. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice steady and soothing. "Even if something happens to me, I can see that you have people who truly love you. That gives me peace."

I felt her warmth, her steady breathing, trying to memorize it all.

I thought about Nathan, about Camellia and Richard—the people Mom said loved me. In the darkness, I made a wish: If miracles exist, let one happen for her.

Mom's breathing evened out as she fell asleep, but I kept holding her hand.

Outside, Boston glittered with lights. I closed my eyes, holding onto that small bit of hope.