LOGINAngel changed into her pajamas. Brushed her teeth and got ready for bed.Shayla lay down beside her on the bed. Angel curled up close. Rested her head on Shayla's shoulder.Grayson sat in the chair beside the bed. Picked up a storybook from the nightstand.He started reading. A fairy tale. About a princess and a knight and a dragon.His voice was soft. Soothing. Perfect for bedtime.Angel's eyes started getting heavy. Drooping. Closing.Within fifteen minutes, she was asleep. Breathing slow and steady. Peaceful.Grayson set down the book and stood up quietly.Shayla lifted herself carefully from the pillow they had both been sharing, moving in increments, watching Angel's face for any sign of waking. Angel did not wake. Her breathing was slow and even and her hands were loose on the blanket and she looked younger than ten in the way that sleeping made children look younger, all the effort of being awake gone from her face.They both leaned down at the same time. Both pressed their lip
[CITY GENERAL HOSPITAL - ANGEL'S WARD, AFTERNOON] The discharge paperwork took longer than the actual process of leaving. Shayla worked through each form carefully, reading everything before she signed it, making sure the follow-up appointment dates were correctly entered and the medication instructions matched what the doctor had told her verbally. She had learned a long time ago that the details in medical paperwork were the details that mattered when you were standing in a pharmacy at ten at night trying to explain something to someone who had not been in the room when the doctor said it. Dr. Osei reviewed everything one final time. He checked Angel's eyes with his small light, checked her reflexes, pressed two fingers to her wrist and looked at his watch. "She is cleared to go home," he said. "The trauma therapist needs to see her at minimum twice a week. If she has a panic attack or a night terror that she cannot come out of on her own, bring her back immediately. Do not wait
Shayla stood at the observation window for twenty minutes.That was as long as they allowed in any single visit and she used all of it. She stood with her hand pressed flat against the glass and she looked at her son lying in the bed surrounded by the machinery that was doing the work his body was not yet ready to do for itself, and she looked at the rise and fall of his chest and she counted the seconds between each breath and she talked to him inside her head because talking out loud through the glass felt like the wrong kind of desperation.Nine years old.He had turned nine years old in that bed and he did not know it and she could not tell him, she stood there and she looked at him and she did everything she could to keep herself from breaking down there.The doctor came by while she was at the window. Stopped beside her. Told her what he always told her, vitals strong, responding to treatment, healing progressing, no change in consciousness, no timeline. She thanked him and he m
[GRAYSON CROSS MANSION - MASTER BEDROOM, MORNING]Shayla woke up the way she had been waking up lately, gradually, consciousness arriving in pieces rather than all at once, her body taking its time about deciding to be awake. She lay still for a moment with her eyes closed and felt the quality of the morning through the curtains, the particular warmth of sunlight that had been building since early and was now pressing against the fabric with some insistence.She stretched carefully, working around the weight of her stomach, and opened her eyes.The room was familiar in the way that rooms you have been away from for a long time became familiar again, not instantly but in layers, each thing you recognized adding itself to the accumulation of coming home. The ceiling. The curtains. The particular quality of light in this room at this hour."Grayson?"The bathroom door was open and the light was off. She was alone.Then she smelled the food.She turned toward the bedside table and found t
[THE HIGHWAY - FEW HOURS AFTER GRAYSON'S DINNER]Wendy's hands were tight on the steering wheel and her eyes were on the road ahead and the tears were coming down her face in a way she had stopped trying to manage twenty minutes ago because managing them required energy she did not currently have access to.She had driven this road hundreds of times. She knew every curve of it, every exit, every stretch where the lighting thinned and you had to trust the headlights more than the road markings. She had driven it in rain and in fog and in the specific kind of exhaustion that came from double shifts at the hospital. She had never driven it like this, with her vision blurring every thirty seconds and her chest doing something that made breathing feel like an effort she had to consciously make."I should have told her."She hit the steering wheel with the flat of her palm. The impact sent a sting up through her wrist and into her arm, she pressed harder into the wheel and hit it again."I
The room held the words.Monica swallowed. The motion was small and controlled and she did not try to conceal it entirely because concealing it entirely would have required more effort than it was worth and her father would have seen the effort. She let it happen and she held everything else still.She had expected it.She had expected it not in the way that you expected things you hoped would not happen, but in the way that you expected things you had been watching approach for long enough that the arrival of them was confirmation rather than surprise. She had expected it because she understood her father's logic and the logic was consistent and had always been consistent and Sasha being caught had ended Sasha's usefulness and the end of usefulness was something Don Volkov treated the same way regardless of the relationship attached to the thing that was no longer useful.She had never let herself be caught.She had arranged her entire professional existence around the single organiz
Grayson sat at his desk pretending to review quarterly reports while actually watching Shayla out of the corner of his eye.She had been different since she came to work in the morning. Distant. Distracted. The easy warmth that had been building between them over the past th
Ruby stared at the woman in the doorway, taking in every detail of her appearance. She was beautiful. Effortlessly so. The kind of natural beauty that did not need makeup or styling to shine. Her dark hair fell in soft waves around her face, and her skin had that dewy glow that suggested she had ju
The evening sun cast long shadows across Shayla's living room as she sat curled up on the couch, a mug of chamomile tea cooling in her hands. Three weeks had passed since Grayson showed up at her apartment with flowers and chocolate and period supplies, and somehow, everything had shifted.Not dram
A piece of paper fell from between the flowers, floating down to land on her desk.Shayla picked it up with trembling hands.Three words in Grayson's bold handwriting.“I'm sorry, Ayla.”She stared at those words, at the flowers, at the man still kneeling in his office watching her through the glas







