Claiming My Childhood Crush

Chapter 3: Stay Optimistic

Almost One Year Later

"Stay optimistic."

Reina hated those words.

The doctors said them.

The nurses said them.

Her uncle said them.

Even strangers seemed to say them whenever they learned about her father's condition.

Stay optimistic.

As though optimism could shrink tumors.

As though positive thoughts could cure cancer.

As though smiling harder would somehow stop her father's body from failing him.

Reina sat quietly beside the hospital bed, pretending to do homework while secretly watching her father sleep.

He looked different now.

Smaller.

When she was younger, Vidal Hernandez had seemed larger than life.

He could carry her on his shoulders for hours.

He could paint all day without stopping.

He could make her laugh no matter how upset she was.

Now his cheeks were hollow.

His skin looked pale.

And some days he seemed too tired to lift his own head.

It wasn't fair.

Reina lowered her pencil and stared at the worksheet in front of her.

She hadn't answered a single question.

"Bebesita."

Her head immediately lifted.

Vidal was awake.

His voice sounded weak, but his smile was the same.

That smile never changed.

"You're supposed to be doing homework."

"I am."

"No, you're staring at me."

Reina looked away.

Caught.

Vidal chuckled softly.

"You keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me like I'm about to disappear."

The words hit too close to home.

Reina felt her throat tighten.

She hated when he joked about things like that.

Hated when he acted as though everything was normal.

As though she didn't see how much weight he had lost.

As though she didn't notice how tired he looked after walking across a room.

As though she couldn't hear the concern in the doctors' voices every time they spoke to her uncle.

"Don't say things like that."

Her voice came out softer than she intended.

Vidal's smile faded slightly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The steady beeping of the machines filled the silence.

Finally, he sighed.

"Sorry, Bebesita."

Reina nodded and looked back down at her worksheet.

She still hadn't answered a single question.

"How was school?" Vidal asked.

"Boring."

"Good."

Reina frowned.

"How is that good?"

"If it's boring, nobody set anything on fire."

A laugh escaped before she could stop it.

The sound seemed to brighten his entire face.

For a few moments everything felt normal.

Just like before.

Just her and her father.

The way it had always been.

"What about Sofia?" Vidal asked.

Reina looked up.

"What about her?"

"You two still talk?"

"Sometimes."

The answer wasn't entirely true.

Talking to Sofia wasn't easy anymore.

When they were younger, they'd spent entire afternoons together.

Now Sofia lived in Los Angeles.

Reina lived in New York.

And the only way they really kept in touch was through the computer.

Messages when they were both online.

Occasional video calls.

Long conversations squeezed between homework and time zones.

Sometimes days passed between messages.

Sometimes weeks.

But somehow they always picked up exactly where they left off.

"Good."

Reina rolled her eyes.

"Why does everyone care so much about my social life?"

"Because you're twelve."

"I'm almost thirteen."

"That's still twelve."

She groaned.

Vidal laughed.

"Sofia's a good friend."

"I know."

"And friends are important."

Reina pretended to focus on her homework.

Mostly because she knew where this conversation was going.

"You should message her more."

"Dad."

"What?"

"You sound old."

"I am old."

"You're thirty-eight."

"Ancient."

Despite herself, she smiled.

"You got that from your mother."

The smile slipped from Reina's face.

Any mention of her mother always made her pause.

There were so few memories.

Sometimes she worried she would eventually forget her completely.

As if sensing her thoughts, Vidal reached for the framed photo on the bedside table.

The picture showed a beautiful woman with warm brown eyes and a bright smile.

Paola.

Her mother.

"She would be proud of you."

Reina stared at the photograph.

"You always say that."

"Because it's true."

A lump formed in her throat.

She wasn't sure she deserved those words.

Not when she constantly felt angry.

Angry at cancer.

Angry at doctors.

Angry at fate.

Angry that everyone kept telling her to stay optimistic.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

The door opened and Carlos stepped inside.

As always, he looked immaculate.

Not a hair out of place.

His expensive suit looked freshly pressed despite it being late in the evening.

"How are you feeling?" Carlos asked.

"Like a million dollars."

Carlos raised an eyebrow.

"The doctors would disagree."

Vidal laughed.

"Good thing they're doctors and not accountants."

To Reina's surprise, the corner of Carlos' mouth twitched upward.

She couldn't help smiling.

For a brief moment it almost felt like old times.

Like they were family.

Like everything would somehow be okay.

Then Carlos reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"I almost forgot."

Reina looked up.

"What?"

He placed a small white box on the table beside her homework.

She frowned.

"A phone?"

"For emergencies."

Reina blinked.

"I don't need a phone."

Carlos gave her a look.

"Your father is in the hospital."

"Oh."

The answer felt obvious once he said it.

Carlos nodded.

"You'll keep it charged."

"Okay."

"You'll answer when I call."

"Okay."

"You'll answer when the school calls."

"Okay."

"You'll answer when your father calls."

That one hurt.

Reina looked away.

"Okay."

Carlos seemed satisfied.

As usual, he treated the entire conversation like a business agreement.

A few minutes later he stepped into the hallway to speak with one of the doctors.

Reina opened the box.

The phone wasn't fancy.

Just practical.

Very Carlos.

As she turned it over in her hands, her thoughts drifted unexpectedly to La Paloma.

To crystal chandeliers.

To polished marble floors.

To the young hotel manager who had crouched beside a frightened old woman and treated her with kindness.

It was strange what the mind chose to remember.

She couldn't remember what she'd eaten two days ago.

Yet she could still remember that.

The way he made people feel safe.

She had never learned his first name.

Only knew him as “Mr. Leone”

Afterward, she'd been too embarrassed to ask her father about him.

For a moment, she wondered if he still worked there.

Then she shook the thought away.

It didn't matter.

By the time she finished setting it up, she had exactly four contacts.

Dad.

Uncle Carlos.

Ross.

And Sofia.

The first text arrived less than five minutes later.

Sofia: So the rich uncle finally got you a phone?

A smile tugged at Reina's lips.

Reina: How do you know everything?

Sofia: I have sources.

Reina: You're twelve.

Sofia: And yet I'm still smarter than you.

For the first time all day, Reina laughed.

The sound drew Vidal's attention from the hospital bed.

His eyes opened.

"What?"

"Nothing."

His smile widened.

"It doesn't sound like nothing."

Another message appeared.

Sofia: How's your dad today?

The smile faded slightly.

Reina stared at the screen.

Then typed:

Reina: Tired.

A few moments passed.

Then:

Sofia: Tell him I said hi.

And tell him he still owes me ice cream.

A soft laugh escaped her.

When she looked up, Vidal was smiling.

"Was that Sofia?"

Reina nodded.

"Tell her I haven't forgotten."

The warmth in his voice made her chest ache.

For a moment, everything felt almost normal.

Then Carlos returned.

The illusion disappeared.

The look that passed between the brothers lasted less than a second.

But it was enough.

Carlos looked worried.

Really worried.

The sight made Reina's stomach twist.

Because Carlos never looked worried.

Not about anything.

If he was worried...

Maybe she should be too.

Carlos's phone rang.

The sound broke the silence.

He glanced at the screen.

For the briefest moment, something changed in his expression.

Then he silenced the call.

A few seconds later, the phone rang again.

Carlos looked down.

Same caller.

Jimena. His Fifteen-Year-old daughter. My cousin.

For a moment, Reina thought he would answer.

Instead, he pressed the button and sent the call to voicemail.

The phone stopped ringing.

A text message appeared almost immediately afterward.

Carlos read it.

Then slipped the phone back into his pocket.

He didn't reply.

Reina tried to focus on her homework.

She failed.

The room felt too quiet.

Too tense.

A few minutes later, Carlos checked his phone again.

The message was still there.

Unread.

Waiting.

He stared at it for several seconds before locking the screen.

For the first time since she'd met him, he looked uncertain.

Almost guilty.

Then Vidal shifted in his sleep.

Immediately Carlos's attention returned to the hospital bed.

The moment disappeared.

A short while later, Carlos left to speak with one of the doctors.

Vidal eventually drifted back to sleep.

Reina remained in the chair beside him.

Watching.

Waiting.

Listening to the steady rhythm of the machines.

The room felt too quiet.

Too small.

Too temporary.

Unable to sit still any longer, she stood and walked toward the window.

Outside, snow drifted lazily from the sky.

The city lights glittered below.

Beautiful.

Cold.

Distant.

Just like New York.

She rested her forehead against the glass.

For months she had convinced herself everything would be okay.

That the treatments would work.

That her father would come home.

That life would return to normal.

But standing there, staring out at the city, she realized something.

She couldn't remember the last time she truly believed that.

The thought terrified her.

Because if she stopped believing...

What was left?

Behind her, a machine beeped steadily.

Her father slept peacefully.

Reina closed her eyes.

For the first time since his diagnosis, she allowed herself to wonder if everyone telling her to stay optimistic was wrong.

Maybe optimism wasn't enough.

Maybe love wasn't enough.

Maybe some things were simply beyond her control.

And for the first time since coming to New York, Reina felt truly afraid.