248. EASE

248. EASE
THREE MONTHS LATER
The doctor’s words landed like a miracle.
“The transplant worked. She’s in remission. For now, the cancer is gone.”
For a moment, the world stilled.
Layla broke first, her arms wrapping Lilly so tightly the girl squeaked, her sobs spilling freely into her daughter’s hair.
“My brave girl… my Lilly… you did it.”
Zaley just stood there. He hadn’t realised how long he’d been holding his breath until relief surged through him like a tide. His shoulders eased, his chest unknotted. For the first time in months, the weight pressing him down actually lifted.
Then a movement caught his eye.
Luna was already marching toward the door, her little fists clenched, steps hard and angry.
“Where are you going?” Zaley asked, half-dreading the answer.
She didn’t even look back. “Luna go beats docta.”
She threw her fists in the air, demonstrating how she would do that.
Zaley blinked. “What? Why?”
Finally, she turned, her round face fierce and determined. “Docta made Mamma cry.”
Against his better judgment, a flicker of pride stirred in him—his girl, already ready to fight for her mother. But before he could say anything, she stomped toward the doctor, determined.
“Luna—” Zaley moved, but she was faster, already tugging at the doctor’s coat. The man crouched, bewildered but gentle. And then Luna drew back her little fist, ready to swing.
Zaley swept her up just in time, her tiny arm flailing in the air. “Whoa, whoa. No beating the doctor.” He tucked her under one arm like a wayward kitten. “Your mamma’s crying happy tears. Understand?”
Lilly, still nestled in Layla’s arms, giggled faintly. “Luna, sometimes adults cry when they’re happy. Like Mommy right now.”
Luna’s brows knitted together. She twisted around in Zaley’s hold to peer at him. “Daddy… you happy?”
“Yes,” Zaley said without hesitation, his voice low, firm.
Her eyes lit with mischief. “Then cry, Daddy.”
Layla burst into laughter through her tears. Even Lilly joined, giggling into her mother’s chest. Zaley groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, though his lips twitched at the corners. “Not happening, kid.”
“Cry,” Luna insisted, poking his cheek. “Cry! Or Luna go beat docta again.”
This time, even the doctor laughed.

The constant weight in his chest had begun to ease.
Soon, he knew, it would disappear for good.
For the first time in his life, Zaley believed that.
His gaze drifted to the portrait hanging across the room—the one Layla finished three months ago. Every detail was there: the uneven scar carved through his brow, the stubborn lines at the corners of his mouth, even the faint mole near his jaw he hadn’t known existed until her brush revealed it.
He studied it for a long moment, then murmured under his breath, This girl. She loved me more than life itself.
For the first time, Zaley felt truly happy. At peace.
Not angry at the world. Not angry at himself.
“Maybe tilt your head a little, Daddy.”
Lilly’s small voice cut through his thoughts. She was fiddling with the camera Spencer had gifted her for her birthday, her tongue poking out in concentration.
He tilted his head obediently.
Click. Click. Click.
Lilly lowered the camera with a satisfied grin. “When will Mamma come home? I need to ask her if I can draw myself and Luna on her drawings.”
Zaley’s eyes flicked toward a rough sketch propped on the shelf—Layla’s work from years ago. A beach, a bike, and the two of them, just Leon and Layla, captured in quiet intimacy. The penthouse was full of those hundreds of hidden memories that Layla had packed away and carried with her, and which the girls now unearthed one by one like buried treasure.
He smiled, ruffling Lilly’s hair. “I’m sure Mamma wouldn’t mind. You can draw on them. There are hundreds, anyway.”
But Lilly didn’t look convinced. She planted her hands on her hips and fixed him with a glare far too serious for her age. “Are they your paintings, Daddy?”
“…Um. No.”
“Then how can you give permission?” she huffed. “You can’t draw on someone else’s drawings. That’s bad manners. Dylan did the same thing, and he’s not my friend anymore.”
Zaley stilled. “Wait. Is that why you’re not friends with Dylan anymore?”
Lilly nodded, her curls bouncing. “He wanted to draw himself in my drawing. He didn’t ask permission. So I threw a banana at him.”
Zaley blinked.
…Oh.
Oh.
That’s why they fought.
As much as the thought pleased him, Lilly cutting off Dylan was something he secretly enjoyed; there was a nagging tug at the back of his mind. Maybe he should do something about it. Dylan wasn’t a bad kid. But Lilly wanted to marry him when she got older. That makes him bad enough. Still, Dylan just wanted a place in Lilly’s life.
Poor boy. No other friends. No idea how territorial Lilly could be.
She is just like her mother.
Though they still find it difficult to differentiate between an apple and a cat when Lil draws, she loves doing art.
Zaley leaned back in his chair, arms folding across his chest as if weighing a grave matter. “Well… maybe you should forgive Dylan.”
Lilly scrunched her nose. “Why?”
“Because,” Zaley said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “sometimes people don’t know the rules. You forgive them, explain the rule, and if they follow it, then they can stay.”
She tilted her head, suspicious. “But he ruined my drawing.”
Zaley smirked. “He didn’t ruin it because he wants to. He just wants to add himself. That’s what matters. Besides, if you keep throwing bananas at boys, pretty soon you’ll run out of friends, which is a good thing. Boys deserve that. But manners play a vital role in a student's life. You're going to be in a big kids' class now.”
That earned him a reluctant giggle, but she wasn’t giving in so easily. “What if he tries to draw on my paintings again?”
“Then,” Zaley said smoothly, “you remind him that artists must respect each other’s work. And if he still doesn’t listen,” He gave a little shrug. “That’s when you stop being friends. Simple.”
Lilly mulled that over, lips pursed, then finally sighed. “Maybe I can be friends again.”
“Good.” Zaley ruffled her curls again, but then his expression sharpened with mock sternness. “But listen to me carefully. You can forgive him, you can even be friends with him… but you absolutely cannot marry him when you’re older.”
Lilly’s eyes widened, shocked. “Why not?”
“Because,” Zaley said with all the seriousness of a man delivering bad news to a soldier, “a boy who doesn’t respect your paintings will definitely ruin your life. He’ll draw on your canvases without asking, spill paint water on your best work, maybe even hang up his own drawings next to yours.”
Her little jaw dropped. “That’s horrible.”
“Exactly.” Zaley tapped her nose. “So, no marrying Dylan. Being just a friend is good enough.”
Lilly nodded slowly, as if this were the most reasonable argument she’d ever heard. “Okay. Just a friend.”
Zaley leaned back, victorious. Good.
“In your face, Kirill,” Zaley thought smugly. “Turns out, I’m an excellent father.”