All Chapters of Falling between us: Chapter 21 - Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-One: The FeverIt started with a whimper.Lila had been unusually clingy all afternoon, refusing food, turning her head away even from the strawberries she usually devoured. Elena chalked it up to teething. Adrian rubbed her back and said, “Kids have off days too.”But by midnight, her skin was hot to the touch.By two a.m., she was burning up.Elena paced the bedroom with her daughter cradled to her chest, whispering nonsense lullabies while checking her temperature every fifteen minutes. 102. 103. 103.7.“She’s never had a fever this high,” Elena said, her voice thin, cracking.Adrian stood behind her, phone in hand. “Urgent care says bring her in. Now.”Elena didn’t even put on shoes.⸻In the Waiting RoomThe hospital was cold. Sterile. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead made everything feel surreal, like they were underwater.Lila lay limp against Elena’s chest, her tiny body shivering despite the heat radiating off her skin.Adrian was filling out forms when E

Chapter Twenty-Four: What We’re Made OfIt started with a knock on the studio door.Elena was brushing the last strokes on a canvas that had stolen three nights of sleep. She barely looked up when Adrian peeked in.“Hey,” he said. “Letter for you.”She glanced at the envelope. White. Thin. Official-looking.She didn’t recognize the sender.But the return address said Lakeview Arts Institute, Chicago.Her brush froze mid-stroke.Adrian caught her expression. “That’s… something?”Elena swallowed. “It’s the residency. The one I applied to months ago. Didn’t think I’d even—” She broke off, suddenly breathless.He handed her the letter gently.“You should open it.”⸻The OfferDear Ms. Reyes,Congratulations. You have been selected for the Fall Residency Program at the Lakeview Arts Institute in Chicago. This six-week immersive experience brings together twelve of the most promising emerging artists from across the country…Elena’s eyes blurred halfway down.Six weeks.Fully funded.Nation

Chapter Twenty-Six: While She’s AwayAdrian woke to the sound of soft humming.It was still dark out—just past five. The apartment was cold, quiet, still wrapped in the veil of sleep. He rolled over and reached for the warm shape beside him, but found only a tangle of blankets and a small stuffed elephant.Lila was already up.He found her in the living room, curled beneath the coffee table with a book in her lap, flipping through pages upside down.“Mornin’, sunshine,” he murmured.She looked up and grinned. “I readed the doggie story.”“That’s a good one,” he said, settling beside her. “But maybe we wait until the sun’s up next time, huh?”She nodded solemnly, then added, “Can we call Mommy today?”“Of course,” he said, pulling her into his arms.What he didn’t say was we called Mommy yesterday. And the day before. And three times last Sunday when you had a fever and refused to nap.But he understood.He missed her too.⸻Routine and RuinThe house had fallen into a rhythm, one held

Chapter Twenty-Eight: When You Come BackThe train hissed to a stop at Penn Station.It was a familiar sound—metal sighing, brakes groaning, voices rising. But Elena didn’t hear any of it.All she could feel was the weight in her chest—the press of three weeks packed into her ribcage, ready to break open at the first sight of home.She clutched her bag tighter and stepped onto the platform, her eyes scanning the crowd.And then she saw him.Adrian stood just beyond the gate, hair mussed, guitar case slung across his back like a second spine. He wore the navy hoodie she loved—the one that always smelled like cedar and rain.Lila was in his arms.Wearing a red dress with tiny sunflowers on it.Waving.Screaming.“Mommy!”⸻The EmbraceElena didn’t remember running.Only that she reached them faster than she thought possible.Lila leapt from Adrian’s arms before he could stop her, nearly tackling Elena at the knees.She caught her daughter mid-sob, spinning her in a dizzy circle, tears s

Chapter Thirty: The Light You Paint WithThe gallery on Prince Street was quiet before the doors opened.Elena stood in the center of it—barefoot, palms lightly sweating—watching the light catch on her canvases. The walls around her bloomed with color: not portraits, not landscapes, but moments—fractured, layered, alive.She had named the collection “Threshold.”Not because she’d crossed something.But because she’d finally chosen to.⸻Two Years LaterThe show was her first solo exhibition since returning from Chicago. Two years had passed, but not idly. They’d passed in sticky mornings and long nights, in tea-stained sketchbooks and lullabies sung under yellow kitchen light.She worked while Lila napped. Painted at midnight when Adrian wrote his lyrics. Some days she managed a whole canvas. Other days, just a few brush strokes. But she showed up.That, she’d realized, was the heart of everything.Art didn’t demand brilliance.Just presence.⸻The Room FillsPeople arrived slowly. Cr