Page 50 of Rhythm and Rapture

But it's her expression that guts me.

She's staring at the boy in the bed with a focus that blocks out everything else. Love and terror war across her features in waves—one moment her face soft with affection as she watches his chest rise and fall, the next contorted with barely controlled panic when a monitor beeps or his breathing hitches. It's the look of someone holding their entire world together with nothing but will and prayer.

The suite's windows let in afternoon light that does nothing to soften the clinical reality. There's a small couch against one wall, blankets and pillows showing where she's been sleeping—when she sleeps at all. Medical equipment crowds the space, but someone has tried to make it homey: dinosaur drawings taped to the walls, a string of paper stars hanging from the IV pole.

The boy—Kael—is so small he barely makes a bump under the thin hospital blanket. Dark curls peek out from under a knit cap with dinosaur spikes along the top. Tubes and wires create a web around him, connecting to machines that beep and hum with artificial life. His face is turned toward Sabina, one small hand curled near his cheek, the other sporting an IV held down with enough tape to wrap a present.

"Mommy?"

The whisper is so quiet I almost miss it, but Sabina reacts like she's been shocked. She unfolds instantly, leaning forward,her hand moving from the rail to brush his forehead with infinite gentleness.

"I'm here, baby. I'm right here."

That voice. The same voice that explained molecular structures with professor-like authority, that gasped our names in the heat of discovery, that laughed at our terrible science puns—now it's something else entirely. Soft and broken, hoarse from tears or talking or both. A mother's voice, full of love so fierce it could move mountains and promises she's terrified she can't keep.

"Did the dinosaurs come back?" Kael's eyes flutter open briefly, unfocused and glassy with medication.

"Not yet, sweet boy. They're waiting for you to feel better first." She forces a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Mr. Chompers is right here though. He's been guarding you."

She adjusts a stuffed T-Rex tucked next to his pillow, and the tenderness in that small gesture breaks something in my chest.

That's when she sees us.

Her entire body goes rigid. The color—what little was left—drains from her face. Her eyes, already too large in her drawn features, go wide with something between shock and betrayal. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

For a moment, nobody moves. We stand frozen in the doorway—three men in designer jeans and leather jackets who clearly don't belong in this world of IV poles and dinosaur caps and parents who haven't slept in days. Rachyl hovers behind us, her hand on the door frame like she's ready to pull us back if necessary.

The silence stretches, taut as piano wire, until finally Sabina finds her voice.

"What are you doing here?"

Chapter Nineteen

I must be hallucinating.Sleep deprivation, stress, the endless recycled hospital air—something has finally made me crack because there's no way Roman, Felix, and Ash are standing in the doorway of Kael's hospital room.

But then Rachyl appears behind them, shifting her weight in those designer scrubs, and the apologetic look on her face tells me this is real. This is happening. The carefully separated worlds I've built are colliding in the worst possible way.

"What are you doing here?" My voice comes out harsher than intended, cracking on the last word. They're not supposed to see this. They're not supposed to see ME like this—unwashed, exhausted, stripped of every defense I've carefully constructed over years of survival.

"Sabina—" Roman starts, taking a step forward, but I cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"You need to leave." I stand too quickly, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision. When did I last eat? Yesterday? The day before? Time has no meaning in the ICU. "This isn't... you can't be here."

"Like hell," Ash says, and there's something fierce in his eyes I've never seen before—not playful chaos but protective fury. "You don't get to shut us out, Sabina. Not after what we shared."

"What we shared?" The laugh that escapes is brittle, edged with hysteria. "What we shared was a fantasy. A performance. This—" I gesture wildly at the hospital room, at the machines keeping my baby stable, at my own disheveled state, "—this is reality. This is my life."

"We know," Felix says quietly, his usual careful control evident even here. "Rachyl told us. About Kael, about your sister, about everything."

The betrayal hits like a physical blow. I turn to my best friend, who at least has the decency to look guilty. "You had no right?—"

"She had every right," Roman interrupts, stepping fully into the room. The suite suddenly feels smaller with his presence. "Because you're drowning, and you're too stubborn to reach for help."

"I don't need?—"

"Mommy?"

Kael's voice, stronger than it's been in days, stops everything. His eyes are open, more alert than I've seen since before thetreatment went wrong. He's studying the strangers in his room with that intense focus he gets, the one that makes him look so much older than five.

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