Thalia's Pov
I sat frozen on the small chair beside the hospital bed, my fingers still holding Raphael’s cold hand.
The words hung in the quiet room, heavy and bitter. “She told him I was a bastard child... born from another woman.”
My heart sank. To hear a word like bastard come out of the mouth of a seven-year-old child was a shock. He said it with a quiet, flat tone, without fully grasping the weight of the slur, which meant he had heard it spewed at him countless times until it simply became part of his vocabulary.
I didn't want to push him to say anything more. I didn't want to peel open wounds that were barely kept together by bandages. But before I could gently change the subject, Raphael kept speaking, his small voice echoing faintly in the dim room.
"Before she started hitti
