CHAPTER THIRTEENSOMETHING DEEPER
1733 Words
Arielle sat quietly in the stiff plastic chair beside Jace’s hospital bed, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. The fluorescent lights above hummed faintly, and the rhythmic beeping of the monitors filled the silence. Her fingers were laced together tightly in her lap, knuckles white. The adrenaline had ebbed, and in its place sat exhaustion—dense, bone-deep.
The door creaked open.
Nina stepped in, holding a paper bag and two cups of coffee.
“I figured you hadn’t eaten,” she said gently. “There's grilled cheese in here. And something that vaguely resembles tomato soup.”
Arielle gave a soft exhale—half laugh, half sigh. “You didn’t have to come back.”
“Of course I did. I couldn’t just go home knowing you were here, trying to carry all this alone.”
Arielle didn’t respond immediately. She just stared down at Jace’s tiny hand, wrapped in gauze and resting against the blanket.
Nina pulled up a chair and sat beside her. “How’s he doing now?”
“He’s sleeping. The nurse said the sedation will wear off by morning, and he’ll be in pain… but stable.” She paused. “It was his leg. And his head. If he had landed differently—”
“But he didn’t,” Nina said softly. “You’re here. He’s here.”
Arielle nodded slowly, eyes burning again. “I still can’t believe she—”
“I know.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Then Nina added carefully, “Your sisters are in the waiting room. They haven’t left.”
Arielle blinked, guilt flashing across her face. “Oh God. I forgot—I didn’t even check on them—”
“They’re fine. Airyana is being the big sister, keeping Olivia distracted with bad Wi-Fi and vending machine snacks. But it’s late. They’re exhausted.”
Arielle’s voice broke. “They shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
“They shouldn’t. But they have you.”
Arielle swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “They need a real home, Nina. Not just a sister who works twelve-hour days and brings home leftover takeout.”
“You’re more of a parent than your mother’s ever been.”
At that, Arielle pressed her lips together, forcing back a sob. “I can’t do this forever. I can’t keep patching holes and pretending it’s all okay.”
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Nina said gently. “Let me take them home tonight. They can stay at my place—God knows I’ve got enough frozen waffles and bad TV to keep them entertained for a night.”
Arielle hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Nina said, already standing. “I’ll go grab them and bring them in to say goodbye.”
She stepped out, leaving the door slightly ajar.
---
A few minutes later, Olivia and Airyana entered quietly, their faces pale and tired. Olivia ran to Arielle, wrapping her arms around her tightly.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I tried to stop mommy. I really did.”
Arielle hugged her close. “You did everything right, Livvy. I’m so proud of you.”
Airyana, older and quieter, stood nearby with arms folded tightly across her chest. “Are you going to call Child Services?”
Arielle looked up, startled. “Yannie…”
“She pushed him down the stairs, Ari,” Airyana said, her voice a little louder this time. It was clear she was still pissed about what their mother did. “What happens next time?” She asked. “What if it’s me or Liv?”
Arielle swallowed hard. “I don’t know what’s going to happen yet. But something will. I’m not letting this slide.”
Airyana nodded once. “Good.”
Nina reappeared, car keys in hand. “Alright, ladies. Let’s go raid my fridge and watch terrible reality shows. I’ve got bunk beds and popcorn with way too much butter.”
Airyana gave one last hug before leaving. Olivia paused at the door.
“I trust you, Ari,” she said quietly. “But we can’t go back there. Not anymore.”
Arielle’s throat tightened. “I know.”
And then they were gone, leaving her alone again.
---
She stood in the hall for a moment, not sure where to go or what to feel. That’s when she saw Damien again.
He hadn’t left.
He sat on the same bench, tie loosened now, hands clasped between his knees.
Their eyes met. He stood.
“You stayed,” she murmured, surprised.
“I said I would.”
She approached slowly, her voice quieter now. “I thought you’d have gone back to the office. Or home.”
“I had paperwork,” he said evenly. “But it can wait.”
Her eyes searched his. “Why are you really here?”
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because I didn’t want you to be alone tonight.”
Arielle’s walls cracked a little more.
She sank onto the bench beside him, folding her arms tight around her ribs. “I sent them home. Nina’s taking care of them.”
“She’s good at that.”
“She is.” A small smile flickered, then faded. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. This… this part of my life? It’s messy. Unfiltered. It’s not something I show people.”
Damien was quiet for a beat. “You don’t have to be polished all the time, Arielle.”
“I do, though. I *had* to be. Because if I wasn’t, no one took me seriously. No one cared.”
“I care,” he said quietly.
She blinked.
He continued, “Not because of the reports you turn in, or the way you lead presentations. I care because… I see how much you carry. And how you never ask anyone to help you carry it.”
Arielle turned her head, staring at him with tired eyes. “You’ve never said anything like this before.”
“I’ve never had a reason to.”
A silence bloomed between them, full of weight and something unspoken.
Finally, Arielle whispered, “He’s just a kid. He still thinks she loves him. And tonight… he looked so scared. Like he didn’t understand what he did wrong.”
Damien’s jaw tightened. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know,” she whispered, voice breaking.
He reached for her hand this time. Not her shoulder. Her fingers were cold, and his were warm, steady.
“I can stay for a while longer,” he offered. “Until he wakes up. Or until you fall asleep.”
Arielle didn’t answer.
But she didn’t let go either.
Later That Night
The hallway had grown quiet. Visiting hours were long over, and only the low hum of machines and the occasional echo of footsteps filled the space. Arielle sat beside Jace’s bed again, her hand resting gently on his. The boy was sleeping, his breathing even and calm, his face pale but peaceful.
She’d stared at that cast on his leg for too long—angry at how fragile it made him look. Angry at the woman who’d let this happen. Angry at herself for not getting them out sooner.
A knock on the frame pulled her from her thoughts.
Damien.
He stood there with a coffee cup in hand. “I wasn’t sure how you take it, so I guessed.”
She blinked. “You didn’t have to—”
“I know.” He stepped inside anyway, his movements quieter now, softer somehow. He offered her the cup. “You looked like you needed one.”
Arielle took it, fingers brushing his. “Thank you.”
He nodded, then gestured to the chair across from her. “Mind if I sit?”
She shook her head. “Go ahead.”
They sat in silence for a moment. The air between them was oddly gentle—heavy with everything unspoken.
Finally, Damien asked, “Does he like dinosaurs? I remember you mentioning something once… during that pitch meeting. You compared someone to a velociraptor.”
She smiled faintly. “Yeah. He’s obsessed. Wants to be a paleontologist. He says it like it’s the most exciting job in the world.”
Damien leaned back, thoughtful. “Maybe I’ll bring something for him when he’s better.”
That startled her. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” he said again, a touch of dry humor now. “But I want to.”
Arielle stared at him, trying to read this new layer she hadn’t seen before. The one that brought coffee and waited for hours in a hallway. The one that remembered her brother liked dinosaurs.
“You surprise me,” she said quietly.
“I tend to do that when people assume I’m a machine.”
“Are you?”
His lips tilted into a crooked, almost-smile. “Only on weekdays.”
She laughed softly, the sound catching her off guard.
A small, safe silence followed.
Then Arielle’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I hate that they still live with her. I hate that I can’t fix everything at once.”
Damien looked at her for a long time. “You’re not responsible for her choices.”
“But I’m all they’ve got.”
“You’re doing more than most people would. That counts.”
She closed her eyes, letting his words sink in. Letting them soothe something jagged inside her.
When she opened them, Jace stirred again, turning toward her in his sleep.
Arielle reached for his blanket and tucked it gently around him. She brushed his hair back with trembling fingers.
Damien watched, quietly.
“I should get them out,” she murmured. “For good this time.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then: “Whatever you need to do that… I’ll help.”
Her eyes met his.
No sarcasm. No distance. Just a simple offer, heavy with meaning.
She nodded once. “Thank you.”
They sat there in silence again—two people from completely different worlds, drawn together by something deeper than ambition or rivalry.
And for the first time in a long while, Arielle didn’t feel alone.
---
- Writer
