I really had a son.
"...I have a son."
Tears spilled uncontrollably, sliding down my temples. I didn't bother wiping them away, just gripped her hand tightly.
"But I missed his birth..." I choked out. "Missed all these months... I didn't even know he existed..."
"You deserved that." Her voice cracked, though tears still shimmered in her eyes. "If you hadn't treated me the way you did back then..."
"I know..." I closed my eyes and let the tears flow freely. "I'm sorry... it's all my fault."
She said nothing more, just gently withdrew her hand and clumsily wiped my tears with a tissue.
"Stop crying. You just woke up—you can't get agitated. The doctor said you need complete rest."
"I'm just... so happy." I opened my eyes and caught her hand again. "Noelle, thank you... thank you for giving me a son."
"You shouldn't thank me," she said. "Thank yourself for surviving. If you had died, Leo would never have known who his father was."
"I won't die." I looked directly into her eyes. "For you, for Leo—I'll never die."
She turned away, but I could clearly see her shoulders trembling.
She was crying.
Crying for me.
Over the following days, Noelle barely left my side.
"Lift your arm."
The warm washcloth moved gently across my skin, carefully avoiding the wounds on my back.
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
"You're lying. I saw you wince."
"It really doesn't hurt." I smiled. "With you taking care of me, even pain doesn't matter."
"Smooth talker." She chided softly, though the corners of her mouth lifted slightly.
"Ma'am, the boss's lunch is ready." Nick entered with a tray.
"The doctor said you can only have liquids for now." She picked up the porridge bowl and sat down. "I simmered this for two hours. It should be soft enough."
"You made it yourself?"
"Who else would?" She ladled up a spoonful. "Open your mouth."
"I can feed myself..."
"You have an IV in your hand. Don't move—I'll feed you."
"Alright."
She fed me patiently, one spoonful at a time.
