THIRTY DAYS TO DIVORCE: NOW HE WANTS ME BACK.

Neria

I knew something was off before the doctor said it.

Not because of the nonstop beeping of the machines, and certainly, not because of the numerous tests he had carried on her, but because of the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes, and the subtle way his hands trembled as he held the final report.

“Miss Hale,” he said, flipping through Lila’s file for longer than necessary. “Please, have a seat.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t sit. My fingers curled tighter around the strap of my bag. “Just tell me what it is.”

There was a pause, the kind that stretches just long enough to make your heart start racing.

“Lila has a rare condition,” he whispered. “It progresses very quickly in children.”

Children. The word hit differently when it was mine, my Lila.

No! I shook my head, already stepping back. “No. She just had a fever. You said it might be an infection.”

“We hoped so,” he replied gently. “But the test results came back this morning.”

I didn’t want to hear the rest, but I forced myself to stand there anyway. “How serious is it?” I asked.

He hesitated. "We estimate about a month.”

For a moment, I thought I’d misheard him.

“A month?” I repeated, my voice hoarse. “She’s about to turn five. She still sleeps with the light on because she’s afraid of the dark. How can you tell me she only has a month like it’s..”

I stopped myself, because if I didn’t, I would break.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and that sounded ...cruel?

“Don’t say that,” I whispered. “Just… fix it, please?”

Shortly after, silence followed, and he wore a troubled face.

“There’s no cure available right now,” he admitted, and my chest constricted, painfully.

Suddenly, the room felt too small, too suffocating. I pressed my back against the wall for support, staring down at the papers on his desk as if searching for a mistake, a sign he'd misread, but my gaze was blurry. I saw nothing.

“So what?” I asked. “We just… go home and wait?” He didn’t answer, he just stared into the distance, thinking.

“There has to be something. Anything…” I begged, desperately.

“There is a clinical trial,” he said slowly. “It’s being conducted by the Onyx Group. It targets this specific condition, but it’s still in the early stages. No confirmed successful cases yet.”

A chance. That’s all I heard. “Apply for it,” I pleaded. “Please.”

“I can help you with that,” he nodded. “But you should prepare yourself. Even if she’s accepted…”

“I understand,” I cut in. I didn’t need guarantees. I just needed something to hold onto, hope.

By the time I stepped out of the office, my legs felt like they didn’t belong to me. I stayed outside the doctor’s office for a while, trying to gather whatever pieces of myself were still left, until I remembered, Lila was waiting.

I wiped my face quickly before going back into the ward. She was sitting up when I walked in, swinging her legs slightly like she hadn’t been lying in a hospital bed for days.

“Mom!” she called, her face lighting up.

I smiled carefully. “I’m here.” Masking the pain, fatigue.

She tilted her head, studying me. “What did the doctor say?”

I walked over and smoothed her hair gently. “He said you need to rest more, so you can get better faster.”

She seemed to accept that. After a moment, she reached under her pillow and pulled out a stack of papers. “My drawings,” she said, proudly.

I took them, unfolding each one carefully. Bright colours, uneven lines, a house, a sun, three stick figures holding hands.

“This is us,” she explained, pointing. “And this is Daddy.”

At the 'Daddy', my fingers stilled. The third figure stood a little apart from the other two. As if, even in her drawing, she didn't know where to place him.

“He’s going to come this time,” she added, her voice hopeful. “Right?”

There it was.

I looked at her, at the way her eyes shone with something so pure it hurt. “…Yeah,” I said softly, even if I had to beg. “He’ll come.”

She smiled, satisfied, as if that was all she needed. “I’ll show him everything,” she said, hugging the drawings to her chest.

“Then you should get some rest,” I murmured.

She nodded, lying back down obediently. “Tell Daddy Lila will be good this time… tell him I miss him,” she mumbled, sleepily.

And as her words sank in, a broken sob tore past my lips. I stayed with her until her breathing evened out, until her small hand loosened around the blanket. Only then did I allow myself to break.

In the quiet hospital room, I sobbed, wailed, until I lost my voice, until no more tears were left.

“You don’t have to be good for your father to like you, Lila,” I whispered through my tears. “You just have to be yourself.” I paused, a bitter smile forming. 'Because you are not the problem… your father is.'

He hated me. That was somehow fine.. But hating his daughter?

We weren’t always like this. There was a time we were close, but one night changed everything, and somehow, I became the villain in his story. And Lila was paying the price.

I didn’t know how long I sat on the cold floor, but by the time I pushed myself up, my body was numb. The doctor’s words replayed in my mind.

Make sure she is happy… You never know…

That’s it. If making her happy could change anything, then I would do it... Her upcoming birthday wish was simple—to spend time with her father. And even if I had to drag Dominic to the hospital, I was going to do it.

When I stepped out, the hallway was quieter, as if it could sense my despair. I pulled out my phone, staring at the number I hadn’t touched in weeks. My thumb hovered over the screen, and I could still hear his voice from the last time we spoke, cold and unforgiving.

' I will never love you, or your daughter. Stop calling.'

I almost put the phone away, and I almost told myself I’d try again tomorrow. But then I remembered, one month. That’s all my baby had.

My chest tightened, as I pressed call.

The line rang once, twice, three times. Then he picked up.

“What is it?”

No greeting. No warmth. Just impatience.

I swallowed. “We need to talk.”

“I’m busy.”

“I know, but this is important. It’s about—”

“Camille’s baby needs me,” he cut in. “I’m staying here. I’ll take her to the amusement park tomorrow.”

Those words were like a needle, ruthlessly jabbing my heart. My daughter, his daughter, had begged him for that, for years, only to be rejected.

But for his first love's convenience and her daughter's, he was even sleeping over..

My daughter was fighting for her life, while theirs was rocking, moving ... Lord. I wanted to curse at him!

But I couldn't, for Lila. My grip tightened around the phone instead. “Dominic,” I said softly, “it’s Lila. She..."

I paused, letting out a shaky breath.

“She has a rare terminal illness,” I said, wiping my tears. “It’s acute leukemia… final stage.”

" She needs you.."

" ...More."