CHAPTER FOURTEENTHE QUIET HOURS
1202 Words
The sterile hum of the hospital settled into Arielle’s bones like fog. Cold, weighty, inescapable.
She stood at the window of Jace’s room, arms folded tight across her chest, watching the slow rise and fall of his small chest. A nurse had just finished adjusting the IV line, giving Arielle a kind smile before slipping out. The quiet that followed was fragile.
Behind her, Damien sat on the small visitor couch, his jacket folded on the armrest, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. He hadn’t left.
Arielle hadn’t asked him to stay.
She hadn’t had to.
“You don’t have to be here,” she said again, though her voice lacked conviction this time.
Damien didn’t look up from the clipboard in his lap. “You said that two hours ago.”
“I meant it then.”
“I know.” He finally met her gaze. “And I still didn’t leave.”
She sighed, rubbing her temple.
“I didn’t want you to see my family like this,” she murmured.
“I’m not here to judge your family,” Damien said quietly. “I’m here for you.”
Something in her posture faltered. She leaned her forehead against the window glass, whispering, “It never really ends. I try to make things better. I work, I provide, I give everything I have. And still, it’s not enough.”
“It’s more than enough.”
“I’m tired, Damien.” Her voice cracked. “I’m tired of pretending I have it all together.”
Damien realized it was the first time she had called his first name. It sounded tender and warm the way she said it, and he liked it.
Silence fell between them like a shroud.
Then—
“You don’t have to pretend with me.” he said.
It wasn’t grand or poetic, but it pierced something deeper than sympathy. It held truth. It held… space.
She turned toward him, tears threatening. “He’s just a kid.”
“I know.”
“My sister found him in a pool of blood. His leg twisted. His eyes closed. And when she said he was in the hospital, all I could think was, ‘Please, not again.’”
Damien stood and crossed the room, slow, careful.
“I was twelve when my dad shoved my brother into a wall,” she said softly, looking past him now, lost in memory. “That was the last time I ever let him lay a hand on us. Not like he was around to anyway. He just got up and left. But tonight… I wasn’t there. I was working. Like always.”
“You were keeping them fed. Clothed. Safe.”
“But not there.” she sniffed.
He didn’t try to argue. Instead, he lowered himself beside her, shoulder brushing hers, gaze steady.
A gentle knock came at the door.
Nina peeked in, holding two cups of coffee and a plastic bag. “I figured you could use something warm.”
Arielle turned, startled but grateful. “You came back?”
“I said I would.” Nina’s eyes flicked to Damien, then to Arielle again. “I brought you snacks. And…before you say anything and start worrying, don't worry, the girls are tucked in bed, sleeping soundly. I had to watch my boring TV shows alone.” Nina chuckled. “They guess they must have been pretty tired.” She walked up to Damien and handed him a cup of coffee and he whispered his thanks back to her.
“Yeah.” Arielle replied calmly, relief washing over her. “Thanks so much Nin.”
“You’d do it for me,” Nina replied, also handing her coffee. “Now let me do it for you.”
Arielle hesitated, then nodded, smiling. She got up and hugged her friend. She was glad she had someone she could rely on. She never really had a close friend, not to talk of a friend she already considered family. She was glad she agreed to be Nina’s friend from the day she met her.
Nina gave her a gentle hug, whispering, “Take a moment to fall apart, okay? You’re allowed.”
As she left, Arielle sagged back into the wall.
Damien cleared his throat gently. “She’s good.”
“She’s more than good,” Arielle said, smiling. “She’s family.”
A soft groan came from the bed. Arielle rushed forward, nearly dropping her coffee.
Jace’s eyes fluttered open, heavy and dazed.
“Hey, baby,” she whispered, brushing a curl from his forehead.
He blinked up at her. “Did I fly?”
She let out a watery laugh. “Something like that. You scared me.”
“Is Airyana okay?” he asked feebly.
“She’s okay. You’re okay. Everyone’s safe now.”
His lower lip wobbled. “I wanted to make Mom stop yelling.”
Arielle’s heart shattered anew.
“I know,” she whispered. “It’s not your fault.”
“I wanted you to come home.”
“I’m here now.”
He blinked again, drifting back into sleep.
She sat by his side, gripping his small hand and she kissed it tenderly. Damien quietly, pulled the blanket higher around the boy’s shoulders, then stepped back, and sat with her.
“You’re good with him,” she said softly.
“I like kids,” he said simply. “Used to take care of my little sister before everything got complicated.”
Arielle glanced at him. “You never talk about your family.”
“Not much to say.” He hesitated, then added, “We’re not exactly whole, either.”
That admission settled between them with quiet understanding.
A gentle knock came again. This time, it was a social worker, clipboard in hand.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said kindly, “but I wanted to touch base before morning. We’re recommending a temporary guardianship review—just protocol given the circumstances.”
Arielle straightened. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, if you want to petition for full custody or remove your mother from the picture legally, now might be the time. It could give you more protection. For the kids, too.”
Damien stepped in. “She’ll have a lawyer look into it.”
The social worker nodded, scribbling something down. “You’ve got support,” she said, smiling. “That helps.”
When she left, Arielle exhaled shakily. “I wasn’t ready for that.”
“You don’t have to be ready. You just have to want better.”
“I do.”
He sat again, closer this time. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
She turned to him, exhaustion plain in every line of her face. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I’ve been where you are,” he said. “And someone once stayed for me.”
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.
She let her head fall onto his shoulder. And for once, she didn’t feel the need to be strong.
Not in this moment. Not with him.
And in the quiet hours of that long, aching night, she finally allowed herself to rest.
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- Writer
