Someone else knew

Benita hadn’t slept. 

All night, she sat curled on the edge of Gaby’s hospital bed, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest. The doctors said he was stable now. Despite the ominous aura around Cilian, she couldn't help but be grateful to him.

Gaby's tiny hand rested in hers, still warm, still with her.

She kissed it. “You held on,” she whispered, brushing hair from his forehead. “You held on for me and daddy.”

Well, he held on for her. Just her.

A soft knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts.

A nurse stepped in with an apologetic smile. “Mrs. Dawson… I’m sorry, but when can you make payments?”

Benita stood, apologetic, “With everything happening… it skipped my mind for a moment, I’m sorry.”

The nurse smiled, “I understand ma’am” she said, handing her a slip of paper.

Benita stared at the paper.

The longest three weeks of her life. Long, lonely days. Emergency care. Blood transfusion. ICU. Ben never came. Even though she had called him a million times. Begged him. Explained to him that Gaby needed him. He never came and she hated herself for still hoping that he would show up.

 

She closed her eyes and the image of him and Fiona stabbed through her heart like she was seeing it for the first time.

She gripped the hospital card to her chest, trying to slow her breathing. 

“Mrs Dawson?” The cashier’s voice snapped her thoughts. “Are you alright, ma’am? You staggered a little bit.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Benita smiled wryly. “Payments for Room 109”

The woman nodded. “You’re his legal guardian?”

“I’m his mother.” Her voice broke a little.

The woman gestured toward the card reader. “Please insert your card, ma’am.”

Benita slid in her platinum card.

The card reader blinked at the platinum card. Red.

She frowned. 

“Try again,” the cashier suggested.

She tried again. Denied.

Then again. And again.

Her stomach sunk. 'That's impossible.” she whispered.

“Do you have another means of payment?” The nurse offered.

“Please give me a minute.” Benita stepped away from the counter in a daze, digging out her phone. She tried calling Ben.

Voicemail.

Tears stung the back of her eyes. She tried again. And again. 

She sighed, exasperated. 

“Ma’am?” The cashier called, “Is there a problem?” 

Benita tried to speak but words failed. 

"I can't reach my husband," she said in a small voice. Fear crept up, did he cut off her allowances?  

Benita refused to even think about what that meant. She pressed her phone to her ear and redialed Ben’s number. 

The phone rang longer this time, but still nothing. 

For a long moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Even after the call ended. Everything inside her was hollowed out, scraped raw.

“The way I see it, crying doesn’t look good on you.” 

The voice came from behind her—soft and familiar. 

Benita turned.

Cillian stood there, dressed in black. The light behind him accentuated the features of his face- sharp and refined. 

His gaze flicked over her— her shaking hands, the puffiness under her eyes, the despair painted all over her skin.

“How long have you been standing there?” she blinked.

“Long enough.”

He walked past her without asking, entered the billing office, and spoke in a low tone to the receptionist. 

Moments later, she returned with a receipt and a confirmation slip. “The balance is cleared,” she told Benita.

“What?” she breathed.

Cillian handed her the receipt, his expression unreadable. “Whatever you want, princess,”

Benita looked at the receipt in her hand. Then at him. “What are you doing? I didn’t ask you to help.”

“You needed it.”

“I don’t even know you!”

“You will,” he snapped. “Soon.”

A beat passed. 

He stepped closer, close enough for her to see the dangerous glint behind his eyes. “Benita,” he said softly, “you’re going to be mine.”

“I’ve had enough of this.” she sighed, shoving the receipt back at him. “I’m married.”

“We both know that marriage died a long time ago.”

Benita froze. The ache in her chest swell— it was more than pain— it was fury.

She slapped him. Hard.

The sound cracked the corridor's silence.

Cillian narrowed his eyes. His left cheek stung from the slap, “You’ll regret doing that.” He growled and stormed away.

Benita stood there, shoulders shaking. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed back onto the bench, arms tight around her ribs like she could hold herself together.

But she couldn’t.

She busted out in tears.

Someone else knew. Her marriage was over.

She had barely recovered. A nurse came running, anxious. “We need you right away—Gaby’s oxygen levels dropped, we….”

Benita was on her feet before the nurse finished, stumbling down the hall like a crazed woman.

In the ICU, machines screamed and blinked. Doctor Brian hovered over Gaby’s tiny body. He looked even smaller now, surrounded by wires and tubes.

“What’s happening?” she cried.

“There’s pressure in his brain,” the doctor said. “We need to perform a very rare emergency surgery now.”

Benita’s hands trembled. “But I’m his mother! Why can’t I sign?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Doctor Brian said, avoiding Benita’s pleading eyes. “According to Gaby’s file, only the father is authorized to sign off on this type of procedure. It’s a rare surgery involving matched tissue— there’s a higher chance of it failing but still, your son’s life depends on it, we will never know without trying”

“Why can’t I sign for him? I’m his mother. I birthed him… please let me sign.”

 “Ma’am, the file on record lists Mr. Ben Dawson as Gaby’s sole medical guardian. It’s from two years ago. For a surgery of this kind, you’ll need his signature—immediately.”

“Doctor,” Benita grabbed his coat. “Why is this happening? Why is this happening to Gaby? My sweet baby. Doctor, I’m certain that his father wants him alive.”

“We still need his signature, Mrs. Dawson.”

Benita grabbed her phone, hands trembling. She called Ben.

Voicemail.

Again. Again. And again.

“Please,” she whispered into the receiver. “Please pick up. Gaby’s dying.”

No answer.

She turned to the doctor, tears streaming. “Is there any other way?”

He shook his head.

She looked at Gaby, pale and still. She felt her world collapsing and no one was by her side.

No one. 

Instead, Gaby’s lifeless body stared back at her begging to be saved. 

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and looked at the doctor. “Do what you need to do. I’ll find a way. I’ll bring my husband.”