i looked past Damien then. Looked across the bed to where Alexander was sitting, his face carefully arranged into sothing neutral.
The room went very still.
Aria watched her mother look at Alexander Wei for the first ti in twenty-five years.
She’d thought about this mont, had wondered how it would feel, how her mother would react, whether the old fear would surface or the old grief or sothing she hadn’t anticipated. She’d imagined it happening in a controlled setting.
Not a hospital room. Not like this.
But there was i, and there was Alexander, and the twenty-five years between them sat in the space like sothing with weight.
Alexander t i’s eyes.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t try to. Just looked at her with an expression that was so stripped of everything defensive or strategic that Aria barely recognized it as his face.
i looked at him for a long mont.
"You ca," she said finally. Simple. The sa words Aria had said to him.
"Of course," he said. Sa answer.
i nodded slowly. Looked back at Aria. Smoothed a piece of hair back from her face "How’s your head?" she asked.
"It hurts," Aria said honestly.
"The doctor said moderate concussion. No fracture." i’s voice was steady in the way it got when she needed sothing to focus on. "You’re staying overnight for observation."
"I know."
"And you’re not arguing about it."
"I’m not arguing about it."
"Mama. I have a concussion. I’m too tired to argue."
"This is the most cooperative you’ve been about dical advice since you were six years old." i pressed her lips together. "I’m choosing to enjoy it."
Aria tried to laugh but her face hurts so much that she had to stop.
Alexander sat in the chair at the foot of the bed, watching all of them with an expression she was only beginning to learn how to read....wanting so much to be part of this and not quite knowing yet how to claim his place in it.
"You can move closer," she said to him. "There’s room."
He looked at her.
"Alexander." She held out her other hand....the one i wasn’t holding. "Co here."
He stood. Crossed the small distance. Sat in the chair beside the bed instead of at the foot of it and took her outstretched hand and held it the way he’d held it when she first woke up....carefully, like sothing he was still learning the shape of.
i watched this. Aria felt her mother’s hand tighten briefly over hers....just a small thing, a reflex....and then release back to its normal pressure.
Nobody said anything for a while.
"You should sleep," Damien said eventually. His voice was quiet.
"I know." She leaned her head back against the pillow. Her eyes were already getting heavy, the exhaustion of the last hours pressing down now that she’d stopped fighting it.
****
Aria fell asleep within minutes.
The room quieted around her. Damien stayed exactly where he was, his hand still in hers, his eyes on her face .
i looked at him for a mont. This man her daughter loved. This man who had walked into Aria’s life in the most complicated possible way and had sohow, despite all of it, beco the person her daughter reached for first.
She’d had her doubts about him. Still had so. Probably always would, because she was Aria’s mother and doubt was part of the territory.
But she’d also watched him tonight through that laptop screen in her apartnt, watched him receive that footage of Aria and go completely still in a way that said everything about what he felt without saying anything at all. Had watched him coordinate the search like soone whom failure was simply not an option. Had watched him carry her daughter out of a warehouse and sit beside a hospital stretcher and climb into an ambulance when every instinct in him probably wanted to turn around and go back inside for Harold.
He’d chosen Aria.
Every ti, every decision point tonight, he’d chosen Aria.
i looked across the bed at Alexander.
He was watching Aria sleep. His expression was the sa one she rembered from the hospital nursery two decades ago, that look of absolute, undisguised love that had terrified her then and didn’t terrify her now, not exactly, but still reached sothing deep and complicated inside her.
He felt her looking. t her eyes.
"Thank you," he said. Very quietly. So as not to wake Aria.
i blinked. "For what?"
"For raising her." He looked back at Aria. "For everything she is. For keeping her safe for twenty-five years." A pause. "For not letting find her before I was ready to be better."
i sat with that for a mont.
"You think I did you a favor," she said carefully.
"I think you did her a favor." His voice was honest. "The man I was twenty-five years ago, she deserved better than him. The man I’m trying to be now....." He stopped. "I’m still not sure I deserve her. But I’m trying."
i looked at her daughter’s sleeping face. At the swelling along her jaw, the careful way she was holding herself even in sleep, the exhaustion written into every line of her.
"She’s stubborn," i said quietly. "When she decides sothing, there’s no undoing it. She decided to know you." She looked at Alexander. "Don’t make her regret it."
"I won’t," he said.
He said it the way Damien had said always. Simple. No elaboration.
Maybe that was sothing they had in common, i thought. These two n in her daughter’s life. The understanding that so things didn’t need more words than they needed.
She thought about the woman who had run in the middle of the night twenty-five years ago with a two-month-old baby and nothing else, certain she was doing the right thing and terrified she was destroying sothing irreplaceable.
She reached out and smoothed Aria’s hair one more ti.
Then she sat back in her chair, and stayed, and let the night settle.
Reviews
All reviews (0)