All Chapters of You Left Me At The Altar, Now You Beg Me: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

 ARIA The engineering lead’s calendar finally lands in my inbox that afternoon. I go through it line by line, cross-referencing against the inspection report until my eyes ache. It’s not until page twenty that my eyes catch something; the inspection report lists the site visit as occurring on March 4th. Meanwhile, the calendar has the inspector in a different city entirely on March 4th, precisely at a training seminar three states away, confirmed by a hotel reservation buried in the expense line beneath it. I sit back. It could be nothing. Clerical error, or even a typo on a form nobody proofreads, the kind of small mistake that appears to cost a lot.   But then, I have built enough cases on things that turned out to be nothing. I have also built enough cases on things that turned out to be everything.

 ARIA It is yet another day in the mediation room. Safe to say progress has been made so far. But today, I am ready to take this to the climax. I honestly do not like the idea of sitting before a Sinclair for 30 days. “The structured settlement isn’t just about medical bills,” I say, sliding the revised figures across the table. “It accounts for long-term care, lost future earnings for the parents who’ve had to reduce their working hours.” “No. You’re padding it.” Damian hits his fist gently on the table, startling everyone. “You know you are padding.” “You will not teach me my job, Mr. Sinclair,” I say sternly. “Your engineering team’s negligence didn’t just break a bone. It broke a family’s income for the next decade. And you won’t pretend not to see it yours

ARIA The last time I felt this way was when the screen at the altar turned on, six years ago. Adrenaline sends chills down my body as I pace the hospital hallway. Luna has been wheeled into the emergency unit. My hands are shaking, my legs are trembling. My entire body weight collapses on my feet, and it becomes too heavy to even lift. Damian stands across from me, arms pressed to his chest. He doesn’t pace or seem restless like I do. He is controlled and calm. Of course I don’t expect anything contrary, He doesn’t understand what it means to push a baby out. What it means to breastfeed a suckling child while working multiple jobs and preparing for Law school. No. He doesn’t know what it means to single-handedly take care of a child for six years. When I told him he was not supposed to be here. His response: &ldquo

 ARIA I step into the corridor that night to call my core emotional anchor. Every time it seems like the world is crashing on my head, he always manages to reassure me that everything will be fine. But today, with the phone gripped so tightly as I dial the number, I find myself fearing for his reaction. I mean, it really gets to a point where the strong and resilient part of every human gives way to vulnerability. Today might just be that day. “Dad.” “Aria.” The way he says my name slowly, it makes me rethink my decision to tell him. “It’s late. Is everything alright?” “Luna’s in the hospital,” I let it come out fast before I try to tell a lie. “She collapsed today.” I can hear some movements on the other side of the phone. Like sheet

 ARIA The results won’t come until morning. The doctor told me as much before she left last night, and I’ve spent the hours in suspense. Afraid, exhausted, fearful. The same fear I had when I was waiting for my own results. But this time, it is not about compatibility; it is about six years of distance transcending into forced proximity. I sit in the small family lounge down the hall from Luna’s room, coffee gone cold in my hands. Even now, moving Luna from the hospital doesn’t change anything. With what I am seeing, they have one of the best medical care systems in the country. My father can’t even donate to Luna. I can’t. Sonia can’t. We all can’t. The only person who can is Damian. Do I trade my daughter’s life for ego? God knows I would do anything for Luna. But this particular one is very