Chapter 5

Celeste's POV

The wind hit me the moment the elevator doors slid closed behind me. Sharp. Cold. Like the universe had decided to slap me back into reality.

I didn’t even realize I was outside until my heels clicked against the sidewalk, the city pressing in around me like noise I couldn’t hear.

I clutched my coat tighter, but it wasn’t the cold making me shiver.

It was him.

Killian Vale.

I had no idea what I was supposed to feel. Was I scared? Ashamed? Furious? I didn’t know. I couldn’t tell. Everything inside me was pulling in opposite directions, and I was just trying not to fall apart in the middle of the damn sidewalk.

He remembered me. Not just my face. Not just that night. He remembered I disappeared.

That was the part that stuck to my ribs like broken glass. I was supposed to be forgettable. A blur in a sea of women he probably saw in passing. Instead, he looked at me like a question that never got answered.

And now?

Now I had no idea what came next.

My phone rang.

The sound nearly jolted me out of my skin. I fumbled to pull it out of my pocket, heart still racing.

Iris.

I answered immediately. “Hello?”

“Celeste.” Her voice was sharp. Breathless. Off. “You need to come to the hospital. Now.”

The world stopped.

“What? What happened?”

“It’s Noah,” she said. “He—he collapsed. He had a fever, and then he fainted, and I couldn’t wake him up. I’m at St. Mercy. They’ve taken him in already.”

Everything inside me turned to ice.

“I’m on my way.”

I ran.

I didn’t wait for a cab. Didn’t care that my lungs burned or that my coat flapped open in the wind or that I nearly twisted my ankle dodging a red light.

All I saw was Noah.

Noah, pale and still.

Noah, needing me.

By the time I reached the hospital, my legs were numb and my hair was sticking to my face from sweat and panic. I burst through the doors, almost crashing into the front desk.

“Room 305,” the nurse told me. “He’s with a guardian?”

“I’m his mother.”

She nodded. “They’re running some tests. You can go in.”

I rushed down the hall, barely noticing the sharp smell of antiseptic or the soft beeping of machines around me. My entire body zeroed in on the room at the end of the corridor.

The second I stepped in, I saw him.

Noah.

Small. Pale. Hooked up to machines that looked far too big for his frame.

Iris sat by the bed, her hand in his, eyes snapping to mine with guilt written across every line of her face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “He said he was dizzy, and then—he just collapsed. I called the ambulance right away.”

“It’s not your fault,” I breathed, rushing to his side. I took his hand gently, pressing my lips to his forehead.

His skin was burning.

“Mommy,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering open.

“I’m here, baby,” I whispered, brushing back his damp curls. “I’m right here.”

He gave me a weak smile. “I missed you.”

My throat closed. “I missed you more.”

The doctor came in not long after. Middle-aged. Calm eyes. Clipboard in hand. His expression was soft, but serious.

“Ms. Rivera?”

I stood immediately. “Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Santos. I’ve been looking over Noah’s charts.”

I nodded, heart pounding.

“He had dangerously low hemoglobin levels,” the doctor explained. “We’ve already started a transfusion. He responded well, but we ran additional tests to figure out what’s causing this.”

My mouth went dry.

He flipped a page on the clipboard. “Noah has signs consistent with early-stage aplastic anemia. It’s a rare condition, but treatable.”

I blinked. “I don’t… I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

“It means his bone marrow isn’t producing enough blood cells. That’s why he fainted. Why he’s been bruising easily. The fever tipped us off. The transfusion today will help stabilize him, but he’ll need long-term treatment.”

“Treatment,” I echoed numbly.

He nodded. “We’ll start him on immunosuppressive therapy and a growth stimulant to encourage marrow function. But I want to be honest with you. The medication alone can cost upwards of $15,000. It’s not urgent this week, but within the month—he’ll need it to keep responding.”

Fifteen thousand.

Fifteen thousand just to keep my son’s body from failing him again.

My legs felt unsteady. “Is… is there help available?”

“We’ll connect you with social services,” he said gently. “There are assistance programs. But these drugs are not generic. Not yet. And in the meantime, you should prepare for the expense.”

I nodded, because I didn’t know what else to do.

Prepare. As if I had anything left to prepare with.

I stepped out of the room later, my hands still trembling. Iris followed behind me, staying quiet until we reached the vending machines.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, voice small.

“I told you it’s not your fault,” I whispered.

“I should’ve caught it sooner. He bruised easy last week and I just—I thought he was playing rough.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t catch it either.”

She paused. “What did the doctor say?”

I swallowed hard. “He’s stable for now. But the medication he’ll need… I can’t afford it. Not even close.”

She was quiet.

And then she said it.

“Maybe it’s time.”

I looked at her. “Time for what?”

“You know what.”

“Iris.”

“No. Don’t shut me down. Not this time.”

I didn’t answer. I stared at the vending machine like it might swallow me whole.

“You’re his mother,” she continued. “But Killian is his father. He has a right to know. Even if you hate the idea. Even if it’s complicated. This isn’t about you anymore, Celeste. It’s about Noah.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“Then tell him.”

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes. “I can’t.”

“You can,” she said softly. “You just don’t want to.”

I didn’t respond.

She squeezed my shoulder once, then walked away to check on Noah.

I sat outside the hospital long after visiting hours ended.

The night had settled in, colder than before. Wind whipped through my coat, curling around my ankles like it was trying to pull me under.

I had nothing left to give. Not to the cold. Not to myself.

I reached into my coat pocket and felt it.

The card.

Matte black. Cold like everything else around me. His name pressed in silver letters across the surface.

I stared at it for a long moment.

Then I pulled out my phone. Hands shaking. I didn’t let myself think. Didn’t let myself breathe. I just dialed.

One ring.

Two.

Then—

“Celeste.”

His voice.

Low. Steady. And unmistakably his.

The air stilled around me.

I didn’t say anything.

Not yet.

I just held the phone against my ear, and let the weight of it settle into my chest.