Semua Bab My Ex, the Widowed Billionaire: Bab 51 - Bab 60

The hospital room was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitor beside Ryan’s bed. The little boy was finally sleeping peacefully, his tiny fingers still loosely curled around Callum’s hand. The tension in my body slowly eased as I watched his chest rise and fall steadily. He was okay. The worst had passed.I exhaled softly and turned to Callum. He sat beside Ryan’s bed, unmoving, his gaze fixed on my little brother as if ensuring he wouldn’t disappear the moment he looked away.“You don’t have to stay,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.Callum finally looked at me, his blue eyes filled with something unreadable. “I’m not leaving him.”Something about the quiet conviction in his voice made my heart clench. He wasn’t saying it just to comfort Ryan. He meant it.I swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “You should at least get some rest.”Callum shook his head. “I’m fine.”I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders,

Staring at the message on my phone, I felt my heart twist painfully. Callum’s words were like a punch to the gut—unexpected, sharp, and leaving me breathless. Despite everything, a part of me still loved him, but love shouldn’t feel like this—like drowning in a sea of confusion and hurt.I wiped my eyes, refusing to let more tears fall. I didn’t have the luxury of breaking down, not when Ryan needed me. My son was still in the hospital, fighting, and I couldn’t afford to fall apart now. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to get ready for work. One step at a time. That’s how I would get through the day.As I stepped outside, I almost jumped when I saw Daniel leaning against his car, waiting. His warm smile chased away a bit of the cold that had settled inside me.“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice gentle. “I thought I’d give you a ride to work—if yo

Callum’s grip on my hand was firm yet hesitant, like he was afraid I’d pull away. But for the first time in a long time, I didn’t. We sat in silence, watching the steady rise and fall of Ryan’s chest as he drifted off to sleep. The beeping of the monitors was a steady, rhythmic reminder of just how fragile he was.I exhaled slowly, exhaustion pressing down on me like a heavy weight. My body ached, but my heart ached more.Callum’s thumb brushed against my palm absentmindedly. It sent a ripple of warmth up my arm, an old familiarity that both comforted and unsettled me.“Athena,” he murmured after a long pause.“I meant what I said earlier. I don’t know how to be what you need.”I turned to face him, searching his expression for deception, for walls, for the Callum who always pulled away before I could hold on. But all I saw was a man who looked just as lost as I felt.“Then learn,” I said softly. “Because I can’t keep doing this alone. And Ryan—” My voice broke. “Ryan needs you, wheth

But in that moment, with Callum by my side and Ryan lying peacefully in front of us, I allowed myself to believe that we could face whatever came next. Together.The next morning, the whirlwind of medical appointments, phone calls, and endless forms began. It was almost like I was on autopilot—nodding along, signing papers, answering questions I didn’t fully understand. The pediatric oncologist arrived, a woman named Dr. Thompson, with a warm smile and a calm presence that somehow made the chaos feel less overwhelming. She explained in greater detail the specifics of Ryan’s chemotherapy regimen, the medications, the rounds of tests, and the side effects we’d need to prepare for. She outlined the schedule for the first round of treatment, which would begin the following week.I couldn’t quite bring myself to listen to all of it. I kept looking at Ryan, small and fragile in his hospital bed, his tiny fingers curled into a fist. His innocence seemed so out of place in the sterile, harsh

The days that followed Daniel’s unexpected call were a blur of conflicting emotions. Ryan’s treatment continued, and the routine of hospital visits, medication schedules, and sleepless nights persisted. But now, between the sterile walls of the hospital and the sterile walls of my mind, I couldn’t shake the unease that Daniel’s presence had stirred. His offer had been made in a seemingly harmless tone, yet something about it unsettled me.Callum and I fell into a strained silence, our once easy conversations now punctuated with awkward pauses and unspoken tension. He noticed my withdrawn demeanor, my distracted gaze, the way I’d stare off into space when he wasn’t looking. He could tell I was carrying something, a secret or a weight, but he didn’t press. It was as if he was giving me space to figure it out on my own, but I knew he was growing more and more concerned. The strain was evident in the way he would look at me, the edge in his voice when he spoke, but I didn’t know how to ex