Chapter 4
983 Words
Chapter 4
The walk to the pediatric ward felt like she was walking slowly to hell, each step felt heavy like lead but she forced herself, to move forward.
Iniko would be expecting good news. He would be waiting for her with that quiet, smile, that made her heart hurt with love and guilt equally.
The general ward was exactly as she had left it—crowded, noisy, and completely inadequate for a child as sick as her son. She had begged Thomas repeatedly for a private room, but he had refused, claiming she was spoiling the boy and that other children managed just fine in the general ward.
The other parents looked up as she entered, and she caught fragments of their whispered conversations.
"...terrible mother, putting her child in here instead of private care..."
"...heard she's too cheap to pay for proper treatment..."
"...poor little boy, no wonder he's so sickly with a mother like that..."
Their words felt like daggers, but Ambelyn forced herself to ignore them. She knew the truth, that her husband controlled all the finances, and never gave her upkeep. But explaining would only give them more ammunition for their gossip.
Iniko sat by the window in his narrow hospital bed, his small frame seemed smaller than usual by the medical equipment surrounding him.
At five years old, he looked younger—too thin, too pale, with dark circles under eyes that held far too much understanding for his age. His IV stand stood beside him like a constant part of him.
Other children in the ward were playing games, running around, yelling but not Iniko. Iniko sat quietly, watching the world outside the window with the patience of a saint, who was about to be martyred.
When he saw her, his face lit up with genuine joy—the first real happiness she had seen all day.
"Mama," he said softly. "Did you talk to Papa? Can I have my surgery now?"
The question nearly broke her. She sat on the edge of his bed, smoothing his dark hair back from his forehead.
"Mama?" Iniko prompted when she didn't answer immediately. "The doctor said if I get the new heart, I can play soccer like Lucas. Is that true?"
How could she tell him? How could she explain that his father—the man who should have protected him above all else, had abandoned him for his illegitimate son.
"We'll see, sweetheart," she managed, her voice thick with unshed tears. "We'll see."
An Hour Later
The silence of Iniko's hospital room felt deafening after Ambelyn ended the call with her lawyer. Her hands trembled as she set down her phone, before smoothening her skirt, trying to give herself something to focus on.
"Mrs. Patterson was surprised," she murmured to herself, replaying the conversation that she just had.
The family lawyer had known the Blackwoods for decades, had handled their legal affairs since before Ambelyn was born, when she had asked her to draft up a divorce agreement for her and her husband, her shock alone was enough as she double asked, to make sure.
"Are you certain about this, dear?" Mrs. Patterson had asked her.
"Marriage is a sacred institution, and the Blackwood family... well, they're not known for their forgiveness."
But Ambelyn was past caring about anything concerning the Blackwood family, not after their cruelty finally extended to her son Iniko.
Her phone rang again, jarring her from her thoughts. The caller ID made her stomach twist with knots as she looked at one of her familiar tormentors: Eleanor Blackwood. Her mother-in-law.
"Hello, Eleanor," she answered, injecting false warmth into her voice.
"Ambelyn, darling. I trust you're well? And little Iniko?"
The concern was fake and fooled no one. For years she had made her stance clear. Eleanor saw Iniko as a disappointment, a weak link in the family chain, unworthy of the Blackwood name.
"We're managing," Ambelyn replied carefully.
"I'm calling because the family is gathering for dinner tonight," Eleanor continued without acknowledging her response.
"Nothing formal, you understand. Just an intimate family meal. Seven o'clock sharp. Don't be late."
It wasn't a request. Eleanor Blackwood didn't make requests.
"Of course," Ambelyn found herself saying, the words automatic after years of conditioning. "Should I bring anything?"
"Just yourself, dear. We have much to discuss."
The line went dead, leaving Ambelyn staring at her phone with growing unease. Whatever this family inner was about, Amberlyn was dead certain that she would be collecting a lot of backhanded insults.
She turned back to Iniko, who had been listening to her half of the conversation quietly.
"Was that Grandma Eleanor?" he asked softly.
"Yes, sweetheart. She's invited us to dinner tonight."
"I made something for her," he said suddenly, reaching toward the small bedside table where his few personal belongings were kept, he pulled out a small bracelet made of colorful beads strung on elastic cord.
"I made it in art therapy," he explained, holding it out to her with shy pride. "The blue beads are for the sky, and the green ones are for the grass. The therapist said I should make something that would make someone happy."
Ambelyn took the bracelet, her vision blurring with unshed tears, looking at the uneven knots, probably caused by pain from his medication, but he still preserved. It was perfect.
"It's beautiful, baby," she whispered, closing her fingers around the fragile gift. "Grandma Eleanor will love it."
The lie came easily, though they both knew it wasn't true. Eleanor Blackwood had never shown interest in handmade gifts from her grandson, but hope was sometimes all they had.
"Will you tell her I made it specially for her?" Iniko asked, his green eyes filled with anticipation.
"Of course I will," she promised, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "I'll make sure she knows how much thought you put into it."
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