Chapter 156 When Everything Changes
Elena： POV
"Mom!"
The word ripped through Celeste's sitting room like a thunderclap, and I was on my feet before my brain caught up with my body, the teacup in my hand clattering onto the saucer.
Celeste's face went white. "That's—"
But I was already moving, my feet carrying me toward the back of the house where the French doors stood open to the garden.
"Behind me I heard the sharp crack of heels on hardwood—Celeste following—and from upstairs, the heavy thud of footsteps."
"Lila!" I burst through the doorway into the garden, my eyes frantically scanning the manicured lawn, the rose bushes, the ornamental fountain where she'd been playing not five minutes ago. "Lila, where are you—"
"Here, Mommy." Her voice was small, coming from behind the fountain, and when I rounded the stone basin I found her sitting on the grass, her pink dress bunched around her knees, one small hand pressed against her shin.
My heart stopped.
"Baby, what happened?" I dropped to my knees beside her, my hands already reaching to assess, to check, to make sure she was whole. "Are you hurt? Did you fall?"
"I was chasing the butterfly." Her lower lip trembled, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "And I didn't see the sharp part of the plant and I—I scraped my leg."
She moved her hand, and I saw it—a gash about three inches long on her shin, not deep but bleeding steadily, the edges ragged where the broken rose stem had caught her. The blood was already soaking into her white tights, spreading in a dark stain that made my stomach lurch.
"Oh, sweetheart." I pressed my palm over the wound, applying gentle pressure, my other hand cupping her face. "It's okay, you're okay, we're going to—"
"Elena." Alexander's voice came from behind me, slightly breathless. He must have taken the stairs two at a time. "What's—Christ."
He was beside me in an instant, his hand on my shoulder as he crouched down to examine Lila's leg.
"It's not deep," he said after a moment, his fingers gently probing the edges of the wound. "But it needs to be cleaned properly, and she'll probably need a few stitches to close it cleanly."
"Stitches?" Lila's voice went high and panicked, fresh tears spilling over. "No, no, I don't want stitches, I don't want to go to the hospital—"
"Shh, baby, it's okay—" I pulled her against my chest, my hand still pressed to her leg, feeling her small body shake with sobs. "It won't hurt, they'll make sure it doesn't hurt—"
"I don't want to!" She was crying in earnest now, her face buried in my neck, her words coming out in hiccupping gasps. "I hate hospitals, Mommy, please don't make me go, please—"
My heart cracked. I knew this fear, had seen it before—those early years when she'd been so sick, so fragile, in and out of clinics with respiratory infections and fevers that wouldn't break.
The white walls and antiseptic smell had become synonymous with fear for her, with pain and needles and strange hands poking and prodding.
"Lila, sweetheart, I know you don't like it, but—"
"It's not even that bad!" She pulled back to look at me, her face blotchy and wet, her expression fierce despite the tears. "See? It's just a little cut. It doesn't even hurt that much anymore."
"Darling." Celeste had appeared with a clean dish towel, which she handed to Alexander. "It's bleeding quite a lot for 'just a little cut.'"
"But I'm fine!" Lila's voice took on that wheedling tone I knew too well. "Really, Mommy, I'm totally fine. We don't need to go anywhere. We can just—just put a bandaid on it and I'll be super careful and—"
"Lila." Alexander's voice was gentle but firm as he replaced my hand with the folded towel, applying steady pressure. "I know you're scared, but this needs proper medical attention. The cut is too long to heal properly on its own."
"No." She shook her head violently, her small hands fisting in my shirt. "No hospital. Please. I'll be so good, I promise, I'll—"
"Baby, listen to me." I caught her face between my hands, forcing her to meet my eyes. "I know you're scared. I know you hate hospitals. But this is important, okay? We need to make sure your leg heals right, so it doesn't get infected or leave a bad scar."
"I don't care about scars!" Her voice cracked on the words. "I don't care, I just—I don't want to go, Mommy, please don't make me—"
"Alright." The word left my mouth before I'd fully thought it through, driven by the desperate need to stop her tears, to ease the fear in her eyes. "Alright, we won't—we'll just clean it here and bandage it and see how it looks, okay? We'll see."
"Elena." Alexander's tone held a warning. "That's not—"
"I know." I met his gaze over Lila's head, my expression pleading. "I know, but let's just—let's get her inside and cleaned up and then we can reassess. Please."
He held my stare for a long moment, his jaw tight, then nodded once. "Fine. But if there's any sign of—"
"I know." I gathered Lila into my arms, careful to keep the towel pressed to her leg as I stood. "Come on, baby. Let's get you sorted."
---
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of antiseptic and bandages and Lila's brave attempts not to cry as Alexander cleaned the wound.
It wasn't as bad as I'd feared—the bleeding had mostly stopped, and once we'd washed away the blood, the cut looked almost superficial.
"See?" Lila said triumphantly, her voice still shaky but defiant. "I told you it wasn't that bad."
"You were very brave," I told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "So, so brave."
Alexander said nothing, but I caught the skeptical look he exchanged with Celeste, the way his fingers lingered on Lila's skin as he checked for signs of heat or swelling.
By dinner time, she seemed almost back to normal—chattering about the butterfly she'd been chasing, asking if we could have ice cream for dessert since she'd been "so good about her leg."
I let myself relax slightly, let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we'd dodged the hospital visit.
---
"Mom?" Lila's voice was small and sleepy, drifting from where she was curled up beside me on the sofa. "I'm tired."
"I know, sweetheart." I stroked her hair, noting absently that she felt warm—but then, she'd been running around earlier, and the sitting room was stuffy. "We'll head up to bed soon, okay?"
"Okay." She shifted, pressing closer against my side, and I felt her shiver slightly. "Mom? I don't feel good."
Something in her tone made me go still. "What do you mean, baby? Does your leg hurt?"
"No." Her voice was very quiet. "I just—I feel funny. Like—like everything's too hot and too cold at the same time."
My hand moved to her forehead before I'd consciously decided to check, and my heart dropped.
She was burning up.
"Alexander." I tried to keep my voice calm, tried not to let the panic bleeding through my veins color my words. "Alexander, she's—she's got a fever."