Chapter Ten: The Fever That Broke Everything
Ava
The moment she touched Liam's forehead, her stomach sank.
Too hot.
Too still.
Too quiet.
She'd left him for just a few hours—Jessica said he was fine—but now his skin burned like fire and his eyes barely opened when she called his name.
"Liam, baby, I'm here," Ava whispered, her voice cracking as she swept him into her arms.
He whimpered.
His body felt too small. Too fragile. The kind of fragile that terrified every mother.
She fumbled for her phone with trembling hands.
"Jessica, he's burning up again. I—I think it's worse than last time. I'm taking him to the hospital."
Then the buzzer rang.
She didn't think. She just opened the door—and froze.
Damien.
He looked like a man who had sprinted through a storm. Hair tousled. Jacket half-buttoned. Eyes scanning her like a threat had been made.
"I heard about Liam," he said. "I'm taking you both to the hospital. Now."
She didn't ask how he knew.
She didn't argue.
There wasn't time.
---
Damien
The car ride to the hospital was a blur of city lights, shallow breathing, and Ava holding their son like she was shielding him from death itself.
Liam.
Now he had a name—and a face.
Damien couldn't stop looking at the boy in Ava's arms. The little jawline. The lashes. The curve of his brow.
It was like staring into a mirror from another lifetime.
Every muscle in Damien's body coiled with helplessness.
His world—carefully built, ruthlessly maintained—was collapsing around one small, feverish boy who didn't even know who he was.
But he would.
Damien swore he would.
---
At the hospital, the pediatrician moved quickly. Bloodwork. IV fluids. Fever meds. Nurses whispered, paged, moved around them with clinical precision.
Ava sat beside the bed, rocking gently as Liam dozed under the blanket. Her face pale. Her lips moving in silent prayer.
Damien stood back.
Watching. Waiting.
When the doctor finally stepped out, Ava gripped his hand. Not intentionally—it was instinctive, automatic.
"He's stable," she whispered. "They think it was a viral infection that spiked too fast."
Damien let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"He's strong," the doctor said. "Give him rest, and he'll recover in a day or two."
Ava nodded. But her hand didn't leave Damien's.
---
Later that night, after Liam had fallen asleep again, Damien leaned against the hospital room wall, arms folded, eyes fixed on the boy in the bed.
"I missed everything," he said.
Ava didn't look up. "You weren't supposed to."
"But I did."
He walked over slowly. Stopped just beside her.
"I want to be in his life, Ava. I don't care how messy it gets between us. He's my son."
Her eyes met his—wet, tired, scared.
"What if he hates you?"
"Then I'll earn his love," Damien said, voice low but firm. "But I'm not leaving him. And I'm not leaving you to carry this alone."
Ava closed her eyes.
And for the first time in years, she didn't feel so alone.