GINA’S POV
It was just past midnight when I made the decision.
I’d been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft sound of Bernard breathing on the couch across the room. Since we got back from the hospital, that couch had become his safe space—close to me, close to everything, easier on his tired little body when the nausea hit hard.
I kept replaying everything in my head: the bruises that wouldn’t fade, how pale his skin had gotten, the shadows under his eyes, and how he couldn’t even make it through a cartoon without falling asleep.
School wasn’t the priority anymore. And neither was pretending we had a normal life.
The next morning, I waited until he brushed his teeth and sat down for breakfast. I put his cereal in front of him, trying to keep my voice light, lik
