chapter 19

Three years ago

Richard’s POV

After the incident.

I’d just brought Payton home from the hospital. She was shattered—completely broken—when the doctor told her our baby hadn’t made it. So was I. But one of us had to stay strong, so I buried my grief deep and focused on her.

I guided her gently into our bedroom.

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks. I eased her onto the bed and sat beside her, brushing damp hair from her face.

“Babe… please stop crying,” I whispered.

“Mia is gone,” she said, voice cracking. “My Mia…”

“I know.” My throat tightened. “But you’re still here. We’re still here. We can… we can try again. We can make more—”

“Don’t say that, Richard.” Her eyes flashed with sudden anger. “She was too precious for you to replace her like that.”

The words stung because she was right. I hadn’t meant it that way, but it came out wrong. I lay down beside her and pulled her into my arms. She clung to me, sobs shaking her whole body. I held her tighter, breathing slowly through my own silent pain.

It was my fault.

The fire report was clear: faulty wiring in the fridge. Payton had begged me to fix it weeks earlier. I’d promised I would. I’d meant to. But life got busy, the task slipped my mind, and now our daughter is gone.

I couldn’t tell her.

Payton already looked like she might disappear into her grief forever. If she knew the truth—that I’d ignored the one thing that could have saved Mia—she would hate me. She might leave me. And I wasn’t ready to lose her too. So I swallowed the guilt, locked it away, and decided I would carry this secret alone, even if it slowly destroyed me from the inside.

A week later

I was in the living room that morning, nursing a glass of orange juice on the sofa, when I heard the bedroom door creak open.

Payton.

She stood in the doorway, pale and fragile, but upright. For the first time in days, she’d left the room on her own. My heart lurched. I set the glass down so fast it clinked against the table and hurried to her.

“Baby, are you okay?” I asked, wrapping her in my arms.

“I’m… okay,” she murmured, hugging me back. We stayed like that for a long moment, just holding each other.

“I’m really hungry,” she said quietly.

The words lit something inside me—relief, joy, hope. For days I’d practically begged her to eat, coaxing spoonfuls of soup, forcing water past her lips while she stared blankly at the wall. Now she was asking.

“Really?” A grin broke across my face before I could stop it. “Come here.”

I scooped her up in my arms. She let out a small, surprised laugh, her right hand resting lightly on my chest.

“Richard—”

“Today,” I said firmly, carrying her toward the dining area, “I treat you like a queen. You do nothing. You just let me serve you.”

She smiled—small, tired, but real.

I set her down gently in a chair, then hurried to the kitchen. Minutes later I returned with a tray: golden pancakes stacked neatly, warm maple syrup, fresh tea, and a single flower I’d snatched from the vase on the counter.

“Here you go, madam,” I said, setting the tray in front of her with exaggerated formality. I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “You look beautiful today. Couldn’t resist. My apologies.”

Payton let out a quiet laugh—weak, almost reluctant, like laughing took effort—but it was the sweetest sound I’d heard in weeks.

“Since when are you a comedian?” she teased faintly.

“Since I realized the only thing that matters is seeing you happy again,” I said softly. I pulled a chair close and sat beside her. “Go on. Eat.”

She picked up the fork and began to eat—slowly at first, then with a growing appetite. I watched her, memorizing every small movement: the way she licked syrup from her lip, the slight lift of her shoulders as she breathed easier.

I could have watched her all day.

For the first time since the fire, a tiny piece of light returned to our home. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t forever. But it was enough to make me believe—maybe, just maybe—we could survive this.

Even with the secret still burning inside my chest.

That night, Payton was curled up on the sofa with my laptop balanced on her lap, video-calling her mother. Her mom had remarried a few years after Payton’s father passed away. Now she, her new husband, and their two young children now live in Switzerland.

I’d noticed how distant Payton had become from her family ever since we got married. She kept everyone at arm’s length, even though her mother tried everything to bridge the gap. I didn’t like it—not one bit—so earlier that day I’d taken matters into my own hands and called her mom myself. I told her everything.

Now I stood at the kitchen counter, washing my hands, when I heard the shift in tone through the speakers.

“Payton… what have I ever done for you to treat me this way?” Her mother’s voice cracked. “You lost Mia, and you couldn’t even say a single word to me about it.” She was crying.

Payton’s shoulders tensed. “Mom, I’m really sorry. I haven’t been myself… believe me, I was planning to call you soon.”

“So how have you been coping? Do you want me to fly over?”

“No—no, Mom, please don’t.” Payton’s gaze flicked toward me. “Your kids need you. And besides… Richard is here.”

I dried my hands and walked over, settling beside her on the sofa. I slid my arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her against my chest. She leaned into me without resistance.

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” I said, looking straight at the camera. “I’ll always be right here beside her until she’s recovered. All business trips—off.” I swept my free hand dramatically through the air like I was crossing out a giant list, which earned me a small, surprised chuckle from Payton.

Her mother’s voice softened, thick with emotion. “I wish I were there with you, Payton. I’m your mother. I’m supposed to be there.”

“Mom, please don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” Payton murmured.

I jumped in before the silence could stretch. “How about this? When things feel a little better, we’ll come to Switzerland to visit. Both of us.”

Payton’s head snapped toward me, eyes wide, but I pretended not to notice. I knew she’d been avoiding her half-siblings, keeping that part of her life locked away. But I’d seen how those kids lit up around her at our wedding—how the whole family had welcomed us into their home with open arms, generous and warm. They adored her. She just refused to see it. Maybe the grief over her father still sat too heavy; maybe that was the only explanation I could find.

“Really, Richard?” her mom said, voice brightening instantly. “I hope it’s soon. I can’t wait to have you both here.”

“Don’t worry, Mother. Soon,” I promised.

Payton cleared her throat. “Alright, Mom, we should go eat dinner now. Talk to you later.”

“I love you, my baby,” her mother said softly.

“I love you too, Mom.” Payton gave a small wave at the screen. I waved too. Then the call ended.

The second the laptop lid closed, Payton set it aside and turned straight into me, wrapping her arms around my neck in a fierce hug. She buried her face against my shoulder, holding on tight, like she was afraid I might disappear if she let go.

I held her just as tightly, one hand stroking slowly down her back.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered into her hair. “Always.”