Chapter 1:The Illness

Callie's POV

"Acute leukemia."

Dr. Anderson said it carefully. Like the words themselves might cause damage if dropped too fast.

I heard them anyway.

"The progression is already beyond the early stage." He folded his hands on the desk. "Which means we are not looking at a long window, Ms. Dawson. Six weeks at the outside. Possibly less."

The room was very quiet.

Outside this office my four year old daughter was sitting in a plastic chair in the waiting area with her stuffed rabbit on her lap probably interrogating the receptionist about something completely unrelated to any of this. That was Lily. The world could be ending and she would want to know if rabbits dreamed about carrots.

"Is there treatment?" My voice came out steadier than I felt.

"There are options we can explore. Nothing guaranteed. Her age and the current progression make it complicated." He paused. "What I can tell you is that stress will accelerate her condition significantly. Whatever she needs most right now is stability. Happiness. Time that feels normal."

Normal.

I almost laughed.

I thanked him. I picked up my bag. I walked out of that office and smiled the moment Lily's eyes found mine across the waiting room because that is what you do when you are someone's mother and the alternative is falling apart in a hospital corridor.

"You took so long," she informed me seriously. "Mr. Rabbit is bored."

"Tell Mr. Rabbit I apologize."

She considered this. "He says it is okay but next time you should be faster."

I took her hand and we walked out into the afternoon and I held it together the entire way to the car.

---

She waited until we were almost home.

We were three streets away when she looked out the window at nothing in particular and said it like the thought had simply floated up from somewhere quiet inside her.

"Mummy. Do you think Daddy will come to my birthday this year?"

My hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"I have been thinking about it," she continued in that serious way of hers. "And I decided I do not want presents. Not even the red shoes. I just want Daddy to come." A small pause. "I will be very good. I will not cry even once."

Four years old and already negotiating for the bare minimum.

I kept my eyes on the road.

"I will talk to Daddy," I said. "Okay?"

She nodded and went back to looking out the window like the matter was settled. Like talking to Daddy was a simple thing that produced simple results. Like he was the kind of man who showed up when his daughter needed him to.

I said nothing else.

I was still holding the doctor's words in my chest like something I had not yet found a place to put down.

---

I called him after Lily was in bed.

Derek Ashford. CEO of Ashford Industries. The man whose name sat at the top of my contacts not because I reached for it often but because Lily sometimes borrowed my phone just to look at his photograph.

Four rings. Then his voice.

"What."

Not a question. Just a word. The kind that tells you exactly where you stand before you have said anything at all.

"I need to talk to you about Lily."

"I'm busy."

Somewhere behind him I could hear music. Soft and expensive. He was out somewhere. Or maybe he was home. His home. The one that had never felt like mine even when I lived in it.

"Derek she is sick." I pressed my back against the kitchen wall and kept my voice low. "The doctor confirmed it today. It is leukemia. She has—"

"Stop."

"What?"

"I said stop." His voice dropped but the edge in it sharpened. "I don't know what you're trying to do right now but it won't work. Using Lily to get my attention. That's a new low even for you."

My throat closed.

"I just came from the hospital. I have the report in my hand—"

"Callie." He said my name like a full stop. "I've been patient with you. More patient than you deserve. But I'm done. I want a divorce. I should have done this a long time ago."

The word landed in the middle of my chest and spread outward.

"Vanessa is back," he continued. "She's moving into the penthouse at the end of the month. I'm not asking your permission. I'm telling you because you deserve to know before you hear it somewhere else."

I said nothing.

"The papers will be ready by end of week. I expect you to sign them without making this difficult."

Everything in the room felt very far away suddenly. The kitchen counter. The window. The small drawing Lily had left on the table that afternoon of three stick figures holding hands under a yellow sun.

"Fine," I said.

A pause. He had expected more resistance.

"But I have one condition."

"You're not in a position to—"

"Lily's birthday. Three weeks from now." I kept my voice completely flat. "Show up. Be her father for one evening. After that I will sign whatever you put in front of me and you will never hear from me again."

Silence on his end. Long enough that I thought he might simply hang up.

"Fine," he said finally. "Three weeks."

The line went dead.

I stood in the kitchen for a long time after. I heard the small sound behind me. Bare feet on the kitchen floor.

I turned around.

Lily stood in the doorway in her pajamas, her rabbit hanging from one hand, her hair flattened on one side from her pillow. She looked at me with eyes that were too awake for someone who was supposed to be sleeping.

"Mummy." Her voice was very small. "Are you and Daddy fighting because of me?"

The question hit me somewhere I did not have a defense for.

I crossed the kitchen in three steps and crouched down in front of her.

"No baby," I said. "Never because of you."

She studied my face for a moment with those serious eyes.

Then she held her rabbit out toward me.

"Mr. Rabbit says you can borrow him tonight," she said quietly. "If you are sad."

I pulled her into my arms and held her there in the kitchen doorway and closed my eyes.