Chapter 12
1121 Words
*Elena's POV — Morning*
The morning light was soft when Elena stirred, stretching gently beneath the silk covers.
Her body was slow to rise, not from sleep but from the quiet ache that now lived permanently in her bones. The kind of ache that wasn't physical anymore but emotional. The weight of knowing she was living on a line that could shift at any time.
She sat up slowly and turned toward the window where the sun spilled in through pale drapes, warming the room with a golden glow.
Then she saw it, something small and unexpected sitting atop her nightstand.
A folded piece of paper.
Crayon marks peeked out from the corners, and beside it lay a tiny sprig of lavender tied with a pale blue ribbon.
Elena blinked.
She reached for it, opening the page with careful hands. The drawing was simple… a square house, a yellow sun and two stick figures. One had long hair. The other was shorter and held a stuffed toy.
Emma.
A soft smile touched her lips. For a moment, something warm bloomed inside her chest. A fragile feeling that hadn’t visited in days. It wasn’t joy, but it was something close.
She pressed the note gently to her chest.
Then rose, tied her robe around her and stepped out into the hall.
*Dining room*
She found Emma sitting at the far end of the long table, legs swinging slightly under her chair. A delicate bowl of strawberries sat in front of her, untouched.
The girl looked up when she entered, her small face framed by loose hair.
She didn’t smile and neither looked away.
Elena approached slowly and sat down across from her.
“Thank you,” she said softly, holding up the note. “It’s beautiful.”
Emma glanced down again, her cheeks tinting with quiet color. She didn’t speak, but she reached out after a moment and nudged the bowl toward Elena.
A round strawberry rested on top, red and perfect.
“You’re taking care of me now?” Elena asked, her voice still hushed.
No response. But Emma's eyes didn’t waver.
It was a kind of answer.
They ate in silence, not awkward or tense, just simple and mutual. Elena didn’t push. She didn’t try to force words or smiles. She just let the silence be.
And somehow, in that quiet, something between them clicked into place.
Not as patient and child.
Not even as strangers.
But as two people quietly surviving.
*Damian's POV — Midmorning*
Damian stood with one hand in his pocket, his shoulder leaning against the frame of the tall glass doors in his office. He could see the gardens from here, a blur of green and light where Elena sometimes wandered.
He hadn’t spoken to her yet today. Not since the visit from Vivian and Charles. Not since Beatrice had told him Elena didn’t blink.
“She didn’t ask for help,” Beatrice had said. “But she needed you there.”
He hated that she was right.
The phone buzzed softly on his desk.
Leo.
He picked it up. “Yeah.”
“She’s different around her,” Leo said on the other end. “Emma. I talked to one of the housekeepers. The girl left her a drawing this morning.”
Damian exhaled through his nose.
“She’s patient,” Leo added. “Emma notices that.”
“I know.”
There was a pause.
“You haven’t asked her about her health, have you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she hasn’t offered,” Damian snapped, then softer, “And I don’t want to make her feel cornered.”
Leo didn’t push. “You want me to dig deeper?”
“No,” Damian said, but the hesitation hung in the air.
“She’s not a weakling,” Leo said finally.
“I know that too,” Damian replied.
*Elena's POV — Afternoon*
She sat with the medical folder open on the bed before her. Pages spread out like pieces of herself she hadn’t looked at in days. Each one whispered what she tried not to hear.
Liver carcinoma.
Unresectable.
Stage IIIB.
She ran a hand over the ink like it would smudge the truth away.
Half a chance.
Half a life.
Half a future.
The doctors had offered a path. A narrow one, wrapped in needles and slow days. A treatment plan that might shrink the tumor. Might buy her time or might not.
She didn’t cry.
Tears were things she had used up already. This wasn't sadness. It was fatigue. The kind that dug into your ribs and refused to leave.
She closed the folder carefully, pressed the edges together until they aligned perfectly.
Then, with quiet finality, she slid it into the drawer.
Not because it was over.
But because she wasn’t letting it win today.
*Garden*
She didn’t expect to see Emma again so soon.
The girl was seated beneath the cypress tree, her legs tucked beneath her, arms wrapped around her rabbit. The garden was still, golden light washing over the path like a hush had fallen over the world.
Elena stepped forward quietly.
“Can I sit?” she asked.
Emma nodded.
No hesitation.
They sat together, shoulder to shoulder but not quite touching.
“I’m scared sometimes,” Elena said, her voice soft.
Emma turned her head.
“Not of people, not even of pain, but of time,” Elena continued, barely louder than a breath. “Of not having enough of it.”
A pause.
Then Emma’s small hand reached out and held hers.
Elena’s throat tightened. Her fingers curled around the little girl’s without even thinking.
That touch was the most honest moment she’d had all week.
*Damian's POV*
He didn’t go to the study.
Didn’t make the nightly call with Leo.
Instead, he walked the halls, pacing with no direction, drawn to the glow of the east wing like a moth to something warmer than fire.
He saw them before they saw him.
Elena and Emma.
Two figures on a bench under the garden lanterns.
One small, one still.
He didn’t interrupt.
Just stood in the shadow of the corridor archway and watched.
He wasn’t sure what moved in his chest.
Not pity. Not attraction.
Something else.
Something that felt dangerously like belonging.
*Damian & Leo*
“Schedule a full private evaluation quietly,” Damian said into the phone. “Anonymous. No leaks.”
Leo was silent. “She didn’t ask for this.”
“She won’t know,” Damian said. “Not yet.”
“You care.”
“I don’t want her to die,” he answered.
There was a long pause.
Then Leo said, “Understood.”
- Writer
