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CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

#Rico’s POV#The morning sun’s not even fully up but my chest already feels tight.Dorothy’s hand is still in mine as I lead her down from the rooftop garden. Her laugh from earlier keeps replaying in my head. That kiss too. That soft, slow kiss that melted something in me I didn’t even know was frozen.She said she was scared of being touched, and still she touched me.I’m walking lighter than usual, I can feel it. I keep sneaking glances at her face, at the way her cheeks have some life in them again. She doesn’t look pale right now. She just looks… like Dorothy. My Dorothy.“Don’t judge my cooking,” I say as we enter the kitchen and I let go of her hand. “I didn’t exactly go to culinary school.”She chuckles as she leans against the island, arms folded. “I don’t even remember the last time I ate food that wasn’t made by someone in a uniform.”“Well, prepare for disappointment.”She hums. “If you burn anything, I’ll make you eat it yourself.”I fake a look of horror and grab a pan f

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

#Dorothy’s POV#I wake up with a soft grunt, my joints making themselves known again. My eyes are crusty from the nap but my mouth tastes less bitter than it did before I slept, so that’s good enough. I take my time, change into fresh clothes, pull a light cardigan over my shoulders even though it’s warm outside, and drag my feet into my slippers. My body doesn’t feel too heavy. That’s a good sign too.Still, I glance at the mirror once. My lips are pale. My eyes are sunken. But there’s a bit of softness under them this morning. A calm I haven’t felt in a while. Rico did that. As he always tries to.When I’m finally done getting ready, I head downstairs but the villa feels quiet. I check the kitchen. Nothing. Living room. Empty. Backyard? No Rico. Weird. I head back inside and call him.He picks on the third ring.“Hey,” I say, walking into the corridor slowly. “Where are you?”“Went out,” he says, his voice slightly distracted. “Just needed to clear my head. I’m at Pizza Hut now, gra

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

#Rico’s POV#She slammed that door shut like I was the one that hurt her. And maybe I did, in some indirect way I haven’t even figured out yet.I’ve been out here for almost an hour now. Just pacing in the corridor like a fool, hands in my hoodie pocket, ears pricked for any sound from inside that room. Nothing. Not even a shuffle.Rain’s still pouring outside, trickling against the villa windows like it’s trying to be poetic or some shit. But nothing about this night feels poetic. Except maybe the ache in my chest.Earlier today, right after I got off the phone with her, I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in years—Xavier.Man’s still got the same buzzcut, only now there’s way more ink across his neck and arms, and his voice has gotten deeper. Found him standing outside City Bank, scrolling through his phone like he owned the pavement.I was shocked. “The fuck?”He looked up and grinned. “No damn way. Rico-fuckin'-Reyes?”We grabbed each other up into a bear hug, both of us laughing lik

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

#Dorothy’s POV#The call comes in just as I finish brushing my teeth. I’m still in my robe, hair half-brushed, the morning sun peeking lazily through the villa blinds. I answer it on speaker, leaning against the sink.“Mrs. Hernandez,” Dr. Malik’s voice is clear and calm like usual, but something’s… off. “I wanted to go over your labs from yesterday. I had them rushed.”I pause. My heart folds. “Okay. What’s the result?”He sighs. “Your white blood cell count has tanked again. Severely this time. It’s risky to continue chemotherapy as scheduled.”I grip the sink harder. “So you’re pausing it?”“Yes. We have no choice. Your immunity’s already dangerously low. If we push more toxins through your system now, it’ll… it could break it down beyond recovery.”The silence feels like someone just threw a drenched blanket over my soul. I lower the speaker volume and sit slowly on the bathroom counter.“But I was just… last week you said I was stabilizing,” I whisper.“I know. These shifts can b

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

#Joel’s POV#The moment Dorothy leaves and the glass door swings softly shut behind her, I don’t waste another second pretending. I turn back to Dr. Malik, lean forward on his desk and say, “Alright. Cut the bullshit. Just lay the cards down.”He shifts slightly in his chair, takes off his glasses and sets them neatly on the desk. “Mr. Hernandez—”“Joel,” I correct, biting out the word with enough sharpness to make my own jaw ache. “We’re not strangers.”He nods slowly. “Alright, Joel. What you want to hear and what the reality is are two different things.”I wait.He exhales. “Your wife’s ovarian cancer is creating a lot of… noise. Physiologically. The tumors, along with the chemo and hormone treatments, they’re distorting her system. Which means it’s incredibly difficult to detect the early signs of a possible pregnancy. The same way a faulty radio blares static loud enough to drown out a whisper… that’s what’s happening inside her. Her symptoms—nausea, fatigue, sensitivity—they cou

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

#Dorothy’s POV#So, Joel didn’t come home last night.What else is new?One minute he’s showing up at the clinic like he actually gives a damn, trying to dominate the conversation and act like a hero. Then the next, he vanishes without so much as a check-in. Just one stupid text that landed sometime around midnight, saying he’ll be early at the clinic today. “Don’t stress. I’ll be there early.” That's what he wrote.And yet… here I am again. Still sick. Still trying to keep my feet under me. Still alone.The air feels dense as I step out of Rico’s car. Maybe it’s the humidity or just the usual early morning hospital hush, where even the birds seem to lower their chirps. I breathe through the rising nausea in my stomach. My body is heavier than usual this morning. My neck aches, and something behind my eyes is throbbing.I grab onto the car door to steady myself, telling myself I’m fine. Just another scan. Just another day of pretending I’ve got this.But then—The concrete tilts sidew

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

#Rico’s POV#I’ve been pacing outside her room for the last hour. Still no sound. No lights under the door. She hasn’t come out, hasn’t said a word or touched her food.It's already dark out.I know she’s still upset, and honestly, I don’t blame her. The shit Joel pulled today was a new kind of low, even for him. Barging into the clinic like he’s the savior of the family and then showing up late, causing another scene, and nearly starting a fight in there? Bro is literally spiraling.But none of that matters now. Not to me. She’s in that room, probably hurting, and I just… I need her to eat something.So I head to the kitchen.The maids are already clearing the dinner dishes from the dining table, but I wave them off. “She didn’t eat, did she?”They shake their heads.“Alright, I got it. I’ll fix something.”They glance at each other like I just spoke Greek. The younger ones huddle near the counter, watching me roll up my sleeves and dig around the fridge. I grab eggs, tomatoes, onion

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

#Dorothy’s POV#I jolt awake, gasping like I’ve been drowning. My throat burns. My shirt’s stuck to my back, my chest is pounding so hard I feel it in my gums.The air feels heavy, still.And my room… it’s dark. The kind of dark that eats sound.It takes a few seconds for me to realize where I am. My eyes dart to the door, the nightlight near the dresser, the faint rumble outside.There’s thunder coming.But that’s not what woke me.It was the dream. That one. Again.It’s always the same—me on that hospital bed, tubes down my throat, eyes wide open but no one hearing me. They’re all there: Joel, the doctors, my mom, sometimes even Rico now. They’re talking about me like I’m furniture. Like I’m an incubator. Like I’m not there. And I’m screaming. But no sound comes out.I touch my belly. It's flat. But it doesn't feel empty.I sit up, wiping the sweat from my face. My fingers tremble. I try to slow my breathing, but it’s already spiraling again. That rising sense of helplessness, like

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

#Rico’s POV#The crick in my neck damn near feels like a punishment from the gods of cheap pillows and too much caring. I groan, rolling onto my back on the cold floor beside Dorothy’s bed, my arm still half-tucked under my head. I blink at the ceiling, the soft dawn light sneaking past her curtains.She’s still asleep.Thank God.As I push myself up, bones crackle like popcorn. I look at her for a moment. She’s curled toward the wall, the faintest furrow on her brows. Probably dreaming again. Hopefully not the kind that makes her cry.I make sure not to wake her as I step out, gently pulling the door closed behind me.The hallway smells like fresh polish and cinnamon from the diffuser near the stairs. I head down to the kitchen, dragging my feet and running a hand through my hair.Two maids are already setting out trays and talking about the weather. One of them, Anita—young, brown eyes always lit up when she sees me—smiles and says good morning.I return it with a nod and a sleepy g

CHAPTER FIFTY

#Dorothy’s POV#Of course they were nose to nose this morning. Rico and Joel. Again. I’d barely gotten out of my room and already my day was half ruined. The sight of two grown men nearly headbutting each other in a kitchen over God knows what was both ridiculous and exhausting. I didn't even have the energy to scold them properly. They were like two aggressive rams who refused to realize the whole world was tired of their endless butting.Now, I'm in Rico's car, heading to the hospital for yet another scan. The morning sun is starting to stretch out but my mood’s still sore.Rico’s at the wheel, fingers tapping the steering. There’s a rap song playing, something loud and punchy. Sounds like it’s from New Orleans, maybe underground, full of slang and rhythm I can’t fully catch. I glance at him. His lips are moving, mouthing every word—no, not mouthing. He’s rapping. Actually rapping. Bar for bar. Flow smooth, head nodding, while his fingers drum on the steering like he made the beat h

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