Mag-log inMy stomach was in knots as I walked into the children’s ward at the hospital. I desperately needed to see my daughter and know that she was okay.
I reached the room the nurse pointed me to and threw open the door.
My daughter laid in the bed, almost as white as its sheets. I ran straight to her side. There was an IV drip in her arm, and she moaned with pain.
“Bonnie? It’s Mommy. Can you hear me, baby?”
I tried to keep the panic out of my voice.
“Mrs Kent?”
I turned to see a doctor speaking with Damien and his mother, Pauline.
“Yes, I’m Mrs Kent. Are you Bonnie’s doctor? Can you tell me what’s wrong with her?” I asked her, ignoring the others.
“Oh, your husband didn’t tell you?”
I said nothing, and the doctor cleared her throat before responding.
“Your daughter has acute gastroenteritis, most likely caused by the unhygienic takeout food she ate yesterday. She was severely dehydrated when your husband brought her in.”
I blinked back tears. My sweet girl went through so much. I asked the question that had been running through my mind since I read Damien’s text.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“We’ve given her an IV drip to replenish her fluids and some medication for stomach pain and nausea. She should make a full recovery.”
I nodded, relief coursing through me.
“We’ll keep her overnight for observation.” The doctor continued. “She should be discharged tomorrow.”
“How did she get this sick? She was perfectly healthy when I saw her late yesterday morning.” I couldn’t help but glare at Damien as I asked my question.
“It’s unusual for cases to develop this quickly.” The doctor glanced uncomfortably between us. “My professional opinion is that she was given no fluids since falling ill.”
My blood boiled.
“Thank you, doctor.” I said in a clipped tone. “Could you give us a few minutes alone?”
“Sure. Call a nurse if you need anything.”
She practically ran out of the room. The moment the door shut, I turned to my ex husband.
“How could you let this happen? Is cooking so far beneath you that you’d rather give our daughter food poisoning? For god’s sake, Damien, I left her with you for one day. One. Day.”
Damien clenched his jaw and Pauline looked horrified at my outburst. I couldn’t find it in me to care.
I went to sit by Bonnie’s side. Locks of hair were stuck to her forehead with sweat. I brushed them aside and held her hand.
“Everything is going to be alright, honey.” I told her softly.
She stirred in a fitful sleep. Seeing her suffer without being able to do anything was torture.
Pauline cleared her throat behind me.
I turned to see her eyes full of blame boring into me.
“Celeste, your behaviour is abhorrent.” Her voice was as sharp as a blade. “How can you call yourself a mother when you refuse to take care of your own daughter?.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Pauline. I take excellent care of my daughter.”
She scoffed. “If that were the case, she wouldn’t be in the hospital now.”
I was tired of being blamed and put down by Damien and his mother. I put up with it for five years. But that ended today.
I left Bonnie’s side and walked right up to Pauline. She took a slight step back.
My voice dropped dangerously low.
“Maybe if you taught your son how to cook, my daughter wouldn’t be in the hospital right now.”
Pauline’s mouth hung open.
“Celeste,” Damien stepped between us, “You’re missing the big picture.”
I put some space between us.
“Which is?” I asked.
“This happened because you left home. I hope you’ll see that my mother is right and change your mind about the divorce.”
Did he expect me to turn a blind eye while he had an affair?
He was unbelievable.
“Why would I ever do that?”
“Think about our reputations, Celeste. What will people say when they find out we’re divorced?” His gaze landed on Bonnie. “Will you force our daughter to grow up in a broken home?”
He made it sound like I was pushing for a divorce for no reason.
“Did you forget about your affair?” I asked, seething.
Pauline’s pencil drawn eyebrows shot into her hairline.
“Damien, how could you?” She admonished her son.
Before he could respond, I continued.
“You were the one who broke our home. So I’ll be going forward with the divorce and taking custody of our daughter.”
Damien chuckled.
“Let’s see if my daughter even wants to live with you.”
He walked over to Bonnie and gently shook her awake. I stood on the other side of the bed with my heart in my throat.
“Bon-Bon, who do you want to be with? Mommy or Daddy?”
Celeste’s POVThe first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was soft, golden light filtering through the half-closed blinds of my studio.Then, a breath later, I saw him.Ryan was still asleep beside me, one arm draped loosely around my waist, his face turned slightly toward mine.The faint rise and fall of his chest was steady, peaceful, maddeningly beautiful.His hair was tousled, shoulders partially covered by the throw blanket of the couch.We’d fallen asleep like this.For a long moment, I just watched him.The way the sunlight caught on his lashes, how his lips parted slightly as he exhaled.I told myself I wasn’t staring. I was just... appreciating art.“Are you cataloguing my flaws again?” he murmured suddenly, voice low and thick with sleep.I startled, then laughed quietly. “You were supposed to be asleep.”He cracked one eye open, lazy and teasing.“Hard to sleep when someone’s looking at me like they’re sketching me in their head.”“I wasn’t-”“You were.” He smiled, slow, kno
Celeste’s POVThe last traces of sunlight had slipped away.I wasn’t sure when we’d stopped talking, when the air between us had grown heavy with something neither of us wanted to name, but I felt it, every glance, every brush of his hand as he adjusted a tool or a sketch.Ryan’s presence was magnetic.I could feel it drawing me in, like gravity I could no longer resist.I had given myself to him once. Giving into him a second time felt like an inevitability now.He stepped closer, and I realized he had been waiting, watching for the moment neither of us could delay any longer.“Are you not going home for the day today? Everything’s done with the paraiba. We’ll go together to submit it the day after.”I took a deep breath and motioned for him to enter the studio.“I… I’ve been meaning to say something to you,” I started, not where I was going with this.“When you confessed your love for me in front of all of those people, something inside of me just felt like it was too performative.”
Celeste’s POVThe morning light slanted through the studio windows.The Paraiba tourmaline sat in its final setting, the culmination of six weeks of sleepless nights, endless trials, and small victories no one else would ever see.I’d left Molly with my mother for the day. She had been thrilled to have her, and I knew the girl needed the gentle normalcy, a calm reprieve from the chaos of Rosemary Atelier.By noon, Rachel was putting the finishing touches on the display board, documenting every step of the gemstone’s story: from the old Portuguese mine to the fragile brilliance that had inspired every cut and curve.Grace was coordinating the shipping labels for the prototypes, ensuring nothing went astray, while Jenny double-checked press materials and layouts.Gideon, who had been quiet today, moved with that measured efficiency of his, anticipating every need without a word.I stood over the stone one last time, hands brushing its edges lightly, feeling its subtle warmth.It wasn’t p
Celeste’s POVThe rain had been falling for hours against the glass walls of the studio.Most of the team had gone home.Ryan was still here, sketching something under the warm pool of lamplight.I should’ve told him to leave hours ago, but neither of us said it out loud.“I didn’t realize how late it was,” I murmured, rubbing my temple. The clock on the far wall blinked 12:47 a.m.“You never do,” he said without looking up, pencil moving in easy strokes. “That’s your thing.”I smiled faintly. “And what’s your thing?”He looked up then, eyes green and amused. “Staying to make sure you don’t forget to eat. Or sleep. Or breathe.”I let out a soft laugh.Something in his tone, quiet but firm, made me look away.The rain hit harder now, a rhythmic tapping that seemed to sync with the pulse in my throat.I traced the rim of my coffee mug, half-empty and cold. “Do you ever get tired of this?”He tilted his head. “Of what?”“Of… holding everything together,” I said softly. “Trying so hard to
Ryan’s POVIt started with a ping. Then another.By the fifth one, I knew something was wrong.Jenny came barreling into my office, phone in hand, eyes wide. “You need to see this.”I frowned. “What now?”She turned the screen toward me.A blurry photo, grainy, shot from someone’s phone, showed Celeste and me walking out of the airport with Molly between us.Celeste’s hand rested protectively on Molly’s shoulder while mine held the suitcase. Molly’s face was turned away, a pink hat covering most of her head.The headline screamed: “SECRET CHILD? Celeste Sinclair and Ryan Edwards spotted with mystery child in Belgium, hiding a family?”I blinked once. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”Jenny groaned. “I wish I was. It’s already on five gossip blogs and two jewelry forums. They’re speculating she’s your daughter.”“My… what?!” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “She’s six. How could I even hide a whole child for that long?”Jenny gave me a helpless look. “Logic isn’t their strong suit.”I sigh
Celeste’s POVMolly sat cross-legged on the rug beside my desk, a box of colored pencils scattered around her.Her tongue poked out in concentration as she tried to copy one of Ryan’s sketches from the wall, a little bird perched on a gemstone.She had insisted on coming with me to the studio that morning, and though Grace had raised an eyebrow, I’d stood firm.“She’s been through too much,” I’d said. “Let her stay close until she’s ready for school again.”Now, watching her hum softly under her breath, I knew I’d made the right choice.The sparkle in her eyes was faint but alive again.I turned back to my workbench, where the Paraiba tourmaline lay under the light, that impossible blue-green, like a drop of the ocean frozen in crystal.Beautiful, yes. But fractured. The internal inclusions caught the light unevenly, scattering it like broken glass.I exhaled, leaning back. “It’s fighting me again.”Ryan looked up from across the table, where he was polishing a silver frame.“You say t







