CHAPTER 29
ARIA
I didn’t expect anything from the day—not really.
Birthdays had never mattered much, and in the lab, dates blurred together. But some part of me… hoped. A message. .
A small “happy birthday.” Even a single word.
Nothing came.
Not from my colleagues.
Not from the people I’d worked alongside for years.
Not from Dalton.
So I slipped on my coat and left. If no one else would acknowledge the day, I would. I’d buy myself a damn cake.
The streets were busy, crowded with people who had reasons to smile. I didn’t. I kept my head down, footsteps quick, just trying to get to the bakery.
A couple strolled by, laughing over ice cream. A street musician played a lively tune while children danced around him, their laughter light and unbothered. I paused for a moment, eyes drifting across the small scene—until they caught on something that didn’t fit.
That’s when I saw him—a little boy, no more than five, tearing away from his mother’s grasp with wild, uncoordinated steps.
His tiny sneakers slapped against the pavement as he bolted toward the road, eyes lit with innocent curiosity, completely unaware of the oncoming danger.
“Hey—!” I shouted, my heart lurching into my throat.
Without thinking, I lunged forward, my feet pounding the sidewalk.
Just as a horn blared and a car screeched around the corner, I caught the back of his jacket and yanked him backwards with all the strength I had.
We stumbled together, landing hard on the sidewalk as the car rushed past us, missing him by inches.
My arms were still around him, holding him close as his small body trembled against mine. I could feel his racing heartbeat under my palm.
His mother came flying toward us, face pale and stricken.
“Oh my god, thank you! Thank you so much—I looked away for just a second—”
Her voice was shaking as she dropped to her knees beside us, grabbing her son into her arms.
“He’s okay,” I said quietly, helping the boy to his feet and brushing dust and gravel from his coat and knees.
His wide eyes blinked up at me, stunned and silent.
“Just… be careful next time.”
The woman hugged him tightly, tears running down her cheeks as she rocked him back and forth.
And I stood there, heart still thudding in my chest, wondering why saving a stranger’s child felt more real than anything I’d done in years.
The woman dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms tightly around the little boy, as if she couldn’t bear to let go. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid bursts, eyes still wide with fear.
His tiny fingers clutched at her coat, seeking comfort.
“You saved him,” she whispered hoarsely, then looked up at me.
Her eyes were glassy, rimmed with tears, the kind that came from true terror—the kind only a parent could understand.
“You really saved him. Thank you.”
“He’s a fast one,” I said, attempting a smile to ease her worry.
“He should be careful with a heart like that.”
She blinked, startled. “You can tell?”
I hesitated, my eyes drifting back to the boy.
He leaned slightly into her, one small hand pressed unconsciously against his chest, his lips tinged with a faint bluish hue.
“I’ve seen it before,” I said quietly.
“The way he held his chest after running. The slight discolouration of his lips. It’s subtle—but it’s there. He has heart disease, doesn’t he?”
She looked stunned for a moment before nodding slowly.
“He was diagnosed young. We’ve tried everything, but it’s hard. His father… he’s been working day and night to find a treatment. He just wants to fix this. For him.”
I nodded, my fingers curling slightly around the handles of the cake box I had almost forgotten in my other hand. I was about to murmur something polite, something meaningless and distant so I could turn and walk away—
Just as I turned to leave, a voice cut through the noise—deep, familiar, and far too close.
“Tommy… there you are...”
I froze. My breath caught. That voice.
It couldn’t be.
But it was.
Dalton.
He rounded the corner casually, but the moment his eyes landed on me, the colour drained from his face.
He stopped in his tracks, like he’d seen a ghost.
“…Aria?
His expression cracked for a moment—shock, maybe guilt—but he quickly covered it with the same controlled calm I’d grown to hate.
“Dalton,” I said quietly.
His wife turned to him, surprised.
“You know her?”
Before he could answer, I took a step back, putting space between us.
“I should go.”
“Aria, wait—”
“I’m glad your son’s alright,” I said to his wife, avoiding Dalton’s eyes.
“Really. Take care of him.”
And I turned. But of course, he followed.
“Aria, please—just give me a minute.”
I stopped walking and turned on him, voice low and sharp.
“Why? So you can explain how it was all for a noble cause? You want to tell me that turning me into an experiment—stripping away every ounce of dignity I had—was justified because your child is sick?”
His jaw clenched. “You don’t understand—”
“No, you don’t understand.” My voice trembled.
“I wasn’t a scientist in that room, Dalton. I wasn’t your colleague. I wasn’t even human. I was a body. A vessel. Something to test. Something to tear apart and put back together. And you stood there and let it happen.”
He looked down, jaw tight, and for a moment, I thought—just maybe—he was about to apologise.
But instead, he said quietly, almost like he was trying to convince himself,
“I did it for my son. So he could live. So he could have a future.”
I stared at him. Then I laughed. Not out of humour—no, it came out sharp and bitter, like something fractured inside me.
“And what about mine?”
His head lifted, eyes locking onto mine, startled.
“What about my life, Dalton?” I took a step closer, my voice rising, fury threading through every word. “Did it ever matter? Or was I just a number in your little experiment? Just a body to poke and prod for your miracle cure?”
He opened his mouth, but I wasn’t finished.
“I didn’t sign up to be your sacrifice. I didn’t agree to be stripped of my rights, my dignity, my humanity, so you could play God and save your family. You didn’t just steal data, Dalton—you stole me.”
His mouth pressed into a line, but the guilt was there. Sitting heavy in his silence.
“You chose to save your son by destroying someone else’s life.”
I stepped closer, the words coming harder now, sharper.
“What about my right to choose? You talk about hope and dreams like they’re some greater good, but you stole mine. You never asked me if I wanted to be part of your cure.”
His hands shook slightly.
“If I’d told you—”
“I would’ve said no,” I said.
“And you knew that,” I said, my voice sharp and trembling.
“That’s exactly why you didn’t stop.”
Silence settled between us, thick and suffocating. He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. Just stood there like he had every right to be breathing the same air as me.
“You know,” I said, my voice rising with each word,
“Your wife has no idea what kind of selfish, gutless bastard she married.”
His face twitched, but I wasn’t done.
“I didn’t tell her,” I snapped.
“I didn’t tell your son. I didn’t stand in the middle of that street and scream What kind of monster are you?. I could have—I wanted to. God, I wanted to.”
I took a shaky breath, fury burning behind my eyes.
“But I didn’t. Not because you deserved it—but because he didn’t. That little boy doesn’t deserve to grow up knowing his father experimented on people like they were lab rats. That he let someone rot in a cell, stripped of everything, because maybe—just maybe—he might find a way to fix his own broken world.”
My voice cracked at the end, but I held his gaze.
“You used me, Dalton. And then you walked away like I was just another failed test tube. So don’t stand there and act like your hands are clean.”
He opened his mouth, but I shook my head.
“Don’t speak. Don’t try to make it right. You can’t.”
I turned again, this time walking away for good.
And maybe, just maybe, the silence behind me felt like the first gift I gave myself that day.