Chapter 86
Just by looking at the IV lines snaking into her veins, I almost winced. Aurora looked too pale against the white sheets, the hum of the machines a hollow reminder that she wasn't safe—not yet. If anything went wrong, I could still lose my wife.
My grip on her hand tightened.
My other hand rested on my stomach, grounding myself.
Ever since Aurora learned about the pregnancy, she'd been cooperative with every instruction, every treatment plan.
It was a good sign. It meant she still wanted to fight—and I would fight beside her. I wasn't going anywhere.
"The stem cells will help rebuild your bone marrow, giving you fresh ground to stand on," Dr. Reinhardt explained, scanning her vitals on the monitor.
"The gene therapy modifies a fraction of your cells, teaching them to recognize and resist the cancer.
The immunotherapy strengthens your immune system so it can hunt down diseased cells.
Together, they act as a coordinated attack. "
Aurora snickered, sinking back into the pillows. "Coordinated attack. Sounds like a war, Doc."
I shook my head, amused despite everything. She still insisted on acting unbreakable.
Dr. Reinhardt shifted his attention from Aurora to me. ""It's good you brought your wife here, Ms. Aurora. You've been handling all your therapy alone for years."
His words stung. If I had known, I would have stood beside her from the very beginning. I squeezed her hand, my other hand never leaving my stomach.
"You'll squeeze our little one before you break my hand, Sloey," Aurora muttered, making me laugh softly.
"You don't get to joke your way through this, Ro. You need to rest—not pretend nothing scares you."
She turned her head, meeting my eyes.
"I'm not pretending, Sol." She gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
"I'm choosing. You're carrying our second miracle.
And Dione still needs her pops. If I fall apart here, what am I teaching them?
That love is fragile? I won't let you carry all of this alone. That's why I'm fighting."
My chest tightened, warmth pulling a smile from me. I laced our fingers together more firmly.
Dr. Reinhardt checked the monitors again. "She's tolerating the infusion well so far. Fatigue or fever may follow, but for now, she's doing better than expected."
I nodded, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. Aurora shot me a smug smirk. "See? Stubbornness is half the treatment."
"You don't have to be strong for me. I can carry us both if I have to," I whispered, leaning my forehead to hers.
"No, mon soleil," Aurora murmured, closing her eyes. Her fingers brushed my stomach, featherlight. "You've carried enough. It's my turn now. Not just to watch Dione grow into the woman she's meant to be... but to see this little one open their eyes."
Tears threatened, but I blinked them away and exhaled slowly. I rested my head on her shoulder. She leaned into me, her cheek settling against the top of my head. We stayed like that for a while—until her weight grew heavier.
"Ro?" I whispered.
No response.
I lifted my hand and brushed a finger beneath her nose, checking her breath. Relief washed through me. Carefully, I helped her lie back down, pulling the blanket up around her.
Sweat beaded along her hairline. A faint tremor ran through her body. I touched her forehead, then my own.
"She's having another fever," I muttered.
I stood, went to our luggage, and grabbed a towel. In the bathroom, I soaked it in cool water, wrung it out, and hurried back to her bedside.
As I stepped back into the room, Aurora was still lying asleep, trembling under the blanket.
"Sol..." she whispered, brow tightening, eyes still closed. "Please... don't leave me."
I froze. "Is she dreaming?" I murmured, gently dabbing the cool towel across her forehead, then her cheeks, down the line of her neck.
She kept mumbling—apologies, pleas not to abandon her—her face twisting as if she were on the verge of tears.
I set the towel aside and cupped her cheeks, brushing my thumbs along the warmth of her skin.
She looked so fragile like this, so unlike the woman who always forced herself to act invincible.
Her eyelids fluttered, slowly opening. I was still holding her face when her gaze found mine.
"Sol," she breathed, a faint smile forming. "Mon soleil..."
"You're burning up, Ro." My fingers drifted across her damp forehead. "You don't have to hide it from me. I can see how much this hurts."
She swallowed, shifting with another quiet groan. "Pain is temporary," she said through a shaky breath, her gaze dropping to my stomach. "But you... you're forever. That's why I endure this. For you. For Dione. For the little star you're carrying."
A tightness pulled at my chest. I pressed my forehead to hers. "Ro, honey... don't talk like this is a battle you've already lost."
My heart was hammering, each beat louder than the machines around us. I knew her illness wasn't curable—but I refused to give up. I would tear the world apart searching for something that would keep her alive beside us.
Aurora held my hands, gripping so tightly I almost winced.
She loosened it with a shaky exhale. "No.
Not while I still breathe," she said, voice firm despite her fever.
"I will fight until the end. And even then.
.." She lifted my hand to her lips and kissed my palm.
"You'll never carry this alone again. I won't let you face another hardship without me. "
A breath escaped me—weak, unsteady. Maybe it was the pregnancy, or maybe it was simply her. "I love you," I whispered, kissing her lips, then her cheek, lingering there.
Aurora shifted, patting the space beside her. "Now rest. You've been looking after me since we arrived in Switzerland, Sloey. You shouldn't drown yourself in stress—especially now that you're pregnant."
I started to protest, but she pressed a finger against my lips. "No. No arguing. Lie down."
With a sigh, I slipped out of my sandals and climbed onto the bed beside her. She smiled like a child when I nestled close, my arm draping across her abdomen.
"I shouldn't have let you stay here," she whispered. "You're the one who's pregnant—you should be resting."
"It's my choice," I murmured into the crook of her neck. "I want to be here. I want to see you through this therapy. I couldn't stand the thought of you facing this alone. So let me stay. Please."
Her hand threaded into my hair, stroking slowly. "You know, Sloey... if I could turn back time, I'd have never let you go. But I guess we can't go back, can we? If I'd told you the truth back then... maybe everything would've been different."
A quiet laugh left me, soft against her chest. Her heart was racing beneath my ear.
If I could turn back time, I would've fought harder to understand her instead of walking away.
Maybe then she wouldn't have faced her illness alone. Maybe then I would've stayed.
But the past had already cut us; we were the ones who chose to stitch ourselves back together.
"We can't live in the past anymore, Ro," I whispered. "We wounded each other... but we still found our way back. That's what matters now."
Aurora nodded, pressing a kiss to my hair. "Okay," she whispered.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled me under. With Aurora's arm around me and the faint rhythm of her heart against my ear, I felt my body loosen, then surrender.
Safe. Secure. Home.
?·???°???°???·?
Tilting my head, I raised a brow and scoffed, trying my hardest not to laugh as Aurora shuffled into the living room wrapped in a thick blanket, her hair still a complete mess.
"What are you doing?" I asked, blinking at her.
She frowned dramatically before plopping down on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around her. "It's cold," she muttered, sitting cross-legged like a sulking toddler.
A giggle beside me made me turn. "Mommy, Pops looks like a white lady," Dione whispered, covering her mouth as she giggled harder.
I couldn't help but shake my head as Aurora draped the blanket over her face and stretched her arms forward. Dione squeaked and grabbed my arm, hiding behind it as Aurora stood and slowly crept toward us like a ghost.
"Honey, it's Christmas, not Halloween," I laughed as Aurora dropped beside Dione and began tickling her.
Both of them snickered, sharing a mischievous glance before turning their matching innocent eyes toward me.
I immediately backed away. "Oh my God, don't give me that look, you two—"
Too late. They both lunged, wrapping their arms around me and smothering my cheeks with kisses. I burst into uncontrollable laughter as they kept peppering my face from both sides.
Eventually, the assault stopped. Dione settled on Aurora's lap, and Aurora leaned closer to me, her arms wrapped protectively around our daughter.
"Maybe we should attend Christmas Mass tonight before going to Papa's house," Aurora suggested.
I tilted my head. "You sure?" Her treatment was responding well, but her body was still fragile. Even so, seeing her up and moving—laughing, teasing—felt like a blessing. Dr. Reinhardt had even allowed her to stay outpatient for the holidays.
"I'm sure," she smiled. "We don't usually go to Mass, and... it's Christmas. It feels right."
Humming, I glanced at my watch. "Then we better get ready." I tapped Dione's knee. "Sweetie, go get dressed."
Dione hopped off Aurora's lap eagerly. Aurora stood and extended her hand toward me. I smiled, taking it as she helped me up. My pregnancy had been smooth so far, but the cravings and mood swings were... unkind.
"You go ahead, Ro. I'll get Dione ready first," I said as we headed down the hallway.
Aurora nodded and went to our bedroom while Dione and I entered hers. I gently closed the door behind us. Dione blinked at me, confused.
"Mommy? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said lightly, though my chest tightened. I pulled a small medicine dispenser from my pocket and handed it to her. "Here. Keep this with you, okay?"
She stared curiously at it before taking it. "What's it for?"
"For your pops," I said softly.
"If you're with her and I'm not around..
. give her one dose. She normally needs two capsules.
" I pointed at the dispenser. "Don't worry— I carry mine too.
It's just that..." I let out a breath. "You know how serious Pops' condition is, right?
I don't want anything happening to her. So I need you to help me look after her. "
Dione clutched the dispenser against her chest. "Yes, Mommy. I'll keep it safe."
"Thank you, sweetheart." I cupped her cheeks and playfully squished them before kissing her forehead. "Now go get ready, okay? We're going to Christmas Mass."
I turned to leave, but her small voice stopped me. "Mommy..." I faced her again. Her expression was tight with worry. "Pops... she's going to be fine, right?"
The question hit me like a blow. Even if the treatment was working, it was only meant to extend her life—not save it. Not forever.
I walked back to her slowly, smoothing her hair.
"Your pops is going to be fine, sweetie.
But... we don't know until when." My voice softened.
"Her illness still doesn't have a real cure.
But as long as her body keeps fighting, she'll be with us.
Some patients recover for long stretches.
Maybe she will too." I held her shoulders gently.
"Let's not lose hope, okay? Right now, Pops needs us. More than anyone."
Dione's eyes glistened, but she nodded. "Okay, Mommy." She hugged me tight. "I love you."
"I love you too, sweet girl." I smiled and opened the door. "Now go get ready. I'll check on your pops."
I closed the door behind me and walked to our bedroom.
When I entered, Aurora was still sitting at the edge of the bed, wrapped in the blanket, wearing the same clothes as before.
"Ro, honey? Why aren't you ready yet?"
She blinked up at me, confusion settling over her features like a shadow. "I was... thinking about something I needed to do, but... I forgot what it was."
My heart dropped a little.
I closed the door gently and walked toward her, cupping her face and lifting her gaze to mine. "You need to get dressed. You told us we're going to Christmas Mass tonight."
"Oh." She let out a small, awkward laugh. "Right. I did say that." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Sorry. My memory lapses are getting worse these past few days."
Humming softly, I shook my head.
"It's not your fault you're having these lapses, Ro.
No need to apologize." I cupped her cheeks and leaned in, kissing her repeatedly.
"You know what—maybe we should just shower together.
Come on, scrub my back," I teased, tugging her up.
She laughed and shook her head, but stood anyway.
It had been months since I learned the truth about her illness, and even now it still felt unreal.
Watching her do her best to act normal—sometimes pushing herself, sometimes hiding the pain—made a lump rise in my throat every time.
But I couldn't fall apart. Aurora needed strength around her, not trembling hands and tearful eyes.
We showered together, teasing each other like we used to, but my worried mind kept drifting to the bruises on her body, the sharp outline of her ribs, the way her once warm complexion had faded to a delicate, almost translucent pallor.
Signs I had missed in the early years of our marriage. Signs I once dismissed as stress from her company's bankruptcy. Signs that, unknowingly, I had worsened because of my own petty revenge.
"Sloey."
Aurora's voice snapped me back. I turned, finding her in her robe, holding up two scarves in different shades.
"What?" I cleared my throat and walked toward her.
"I'm asking which one looks better," she pouted.
Smiling, I cupped her face and examined the scarves. "This one," I decided, wrapping the softer shade around her neck. "You look less pale with this."
She turned to the mirror and huffed a quiet laugh. "I still look like a ghost, don't I?"
"Then you're the most beautiful ghost in Monaco," I mumbled, shaking my head as I chose my outfit.
Once we finished getting ready, we drove to Saint Nicholas Cathedral.
The place was glowing with warm Christmas light—families gathering, couples greeting each other, children bundled up and giggling as snow crunched beneath their boots.
Familiar faces smiled at us as we walked in.
Aurora reached for my hand as we found a place to stand. I glanced at her, then at the altar.
Who would've thought I'd end up marrying her—even if it started as a revenge-fueled, half-forced arrangement? The memory almost made me laugh. I had planned to break her the way she broke me, yet somehow, she still captured me... like she always had.
The runaway girl at eighteen, who clawed her way through life with scholarships and grit. The girl who bumped into a billionaire heiress and somehow fell into her orbit. The girl who fell in love and lost her—and found her again—and married her.
My fingers tightened around Aurora's hand. I blinked rapidly, fighting the tears threatening to spill as the choir's voices rose, filling the cathedral with shimmering Christmas harmony.
"They say miracles often happen at Christmas," Aurora murmured, leaning close with a small grin.
I chuckled softly. "Is that true?"
She shrugged, wrapping her arm around my waist and pulling me closer. "Who knows?"
I gazed at her pale but smiling face, then back at the altar. If miracles truly happened... would one happen for her?
Would they cure her? Give her more time? Give her a life she didn't have to fight for every single day?
She was still so young. She'd been battling this illness since twenty-two. She was only thirty-five now. It was cruel. Unfair. If I could take her illness—if I could carry it for her—I would do it without hesitation.
A soft kiss brushed my cheek, pulling me from the thought.
I blinked, startled, and found Aurora watching me. "The Mass is over. Why are you spacing out?" she asked, smiling gently.
"H-huh?" I blinked again, realizing people were already standing and making their way out of the cathedral.
She tilted her head and poked the tip of my nose. "You didn't listen to the homily?" she teased. "You're such a naughty wife, Sloey."
I rolled my eyes. "How would I even listen to the homily when the woman standing beside me kept capturing my eyes in every way she moved?" I raised a brow.
Aurora flushed instantly, looking away.
Dione giggled between us. "Mommy, you got pops right there," she whispered, clasping my hand.
The three of us teased one another as we walked out. I spotted Soeren and Millie nearby and waved. Aurora and Dione went with me, but they excused themselves a moment later.
"How's the pregnancy holding up, Millie?" I asked, smiling at her now visible bump.
"Perfectly fine. Just having a hard time waking up and moving around in the morning," she laughed, rubbing her belly. "How about you?"
I shrugged. "Weird food cravings. Mood swings are such a buzzkill. But—" I clicked my tongue, "I survived the first trimester."
My eyes drifted to Aurora and Dione, who were acting like a queen and her princess. "Look at these two," I chuckled, watching Aurora hand an imaginary crown to Dione, who bowed dramatically.
"How's your wife doing with her treatment, sis?" Soeren asked, his arm around Millie's waist.
I forced a faint smile and looked at them before shifting my gaze back to my wife and daughter.
"She's managing. The treatment's working fine, though her body is still weak.
Her doctor said her body's still adjusting.
Eventually, once her system fully adapts to the combination therapy, she should regain her strength. "
"That's still good news, right?"
I nodded.
"It is—as long as nothing goes wrong. No complications.
" I exhaled sharply, then smiled again. "Anyway, I won't keep you two.
Merry Christmas." I leaned in to hug them both.
"We'll drop by next time to visit. We're spending Christmas with Aurora's dad's side this year. "
They nodded, and I waved goodbye before heading back toward Aurora and Dione. Aurora stood unusually still, one hand clutching her chest. Dione's face had gone pale.
"Another chest pain?" I asked softly.
They both turned to me. I stroked Dione's head before focusing on Aurora. I smiled as I adjusted her coat and scarf, tucking them securely around her.
Rubbing my gloves together for warmth, I cupped her face. Her hands slid to my waist, steadying herself.
"Just acting up," she murmured. "But it's fine now." She wrapped her arms around me, resting her chin on my stomach. "Come on. Let's head to Papa's house—they're expecting us." She pressed a kiss to my neck before pulling me forward.
My cheeks heated at the gesture, though my mind stayed anchored to her chest pains—just one of the treatment's lingering side effects. The constant ache, the night fevers... they still struck every time she underwent a session.
I tried to shake it off, focusing on the present instead. Dione skipped ahead, humming and hopping across the stone tiles.
I smiled at the sight of her. "Next year," I said, resting my hands over Aurora's on my bump, "we'll bring the baby, too."
Just a bit longer. Maybe... maybe there would be a miracle. I'd been working closely with her doctor, searching for any possible cure—anything to ease her pain.
"We'll see to it," she said, releasing me before slipping her arm over my shoulders.
We'll see to it. The words echoed in my chest. Because both of us knew how uncertain our future was, how fragile this present moment truly felt. Her illness was still progressing—slowly, unstoppably—even if the treatment was helping.
I swallowed hard and glanced at her. "We just finished our first trimester, Ro," I whispered. "Six more months... and we'll meet our little one."
Six more months of uncertainty. Six more months of hope. Six more months—maybe more—if miracles were kind.
"Just a little more, and this little moon here will be a big sister," Aurora teased Dione, who grinned and waited for us to catch up.
I slid into the backseat, followed by Dione, then Aurora.
"Mommy!" Dione leaned into me, resting her head on my bump. "I hope it's a boy!"
"But what if it's a girl?" Aurora asked, adjusting her coat.
Dione giggled. "Then I'll let her wear the clothes I design!"
Aurora laughed softly.
I ran my fingers through Dione's hair as she whispered sweet nothings to my belly. "Why do I feel like you're already planning to make our little one your fashion model, sweetheart?" I teased.
"A fashion model and a fashion designer," Aurora chimed in, grinning. "Not bad at all. You two will reign over haute couture someday."
I laughed, watching the two of them bounce off each other's imaginations so naturally, as if their minds were stitched together.
As we arrived at Aurora's father's estate, we were greeted by her father, her stepmother, and her half-siblings.
The evening was warm, filled with chatter and the usual exchange of updates—most of it inevitably circling back to Aurora's medication and her current condition.
After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room for gifts. I settled beside Aurora while Dione straddled her pops' lap, her small arms wrapped tight around Aurora's neck, her face buried in her chest.
"What's wrong with my young lady?" Aurora asked softly, worry threading her voice.
I watched the two of them quietly. Dione leaned in and whispered into Aurora's ear, then kissed her cheek gently.
Aurora's lips tugged into a faint smile. "We'll see, sweetie. Pops doesn't like making promises... but if my body holds out with the therapy, maybe I could even walk you down the aisle one day."
My brows shot up. Walk her down the aisle? She's thirteen. What on earth were they talking about? I scoffed under my breath, shaking my head at their little secret world.
I rested a hand on Aurora's knee, rubbing soft circles. "Actually, I think your pops has something for you, sweetheart."
"Oh yes!" Thalia chimed, eyes sparkling. "She's been keeping it hidden from you, Dione."
Dione straightened immediately. "What is it, Pops?"
Aurora grinned, pulling a folded handkerchief from her pocket. "You'll see soon enough." She covered Dione's eyes, helping her stand, guiding her to the center of the room.
I watched Dione practically vibrating with excitement beneath the blindfold.
"What's this?" she asked as Aurora's father approached, holding a medium-sized box.
"Open it," Aurora urged.
Dione tore into it, lifting the lid—and gasped. "A Labrador puppy!" she squealed, scooping the wriggling pup into her arms. She sprinted toward us, hugging Aurora tightly. "Pops! Mommy! Thank you!"
I smiled, heart warm at the sight.
Dione had grown so attached to Aurora so quickly.
When she learned her pops was sick—something we never intended to hide—she had been shocked, devastated even.
A child shouldn't have to shoulder the weight of a parent's terminal illness, especially not when they've only had that parent for a single precious year.
The room buzzed with excitement as everyone came over to greet the puppy. But Aurora and I remained seated, a quiet bubble in the middle of the noise. I turned as she stood up.
"Gotta step out for a while," she murmured, kissing my cheek before slipping toward the back garden.
My chest tightened as I watched her walk away. I stood slowly and followed, stepping into the cold night air.
I found her crouched on the grass, shoulders shaking.
"It hurts so much..." her voice cracked, strained.
My heart dropped. I hurried to her, kneeling in front of her, cupping her face gently. Her eyes fluttered open.
"Sloey..." she gasped.
"What's wrong? Do you need your pain reliever?" I asked, panic rising.
She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "It hurts here." She touched her chest.
I pulled her into my arms, helping her sit as I rubbed the heel of my palm slowly against her sternum. "Breathe with me," I whispered, taking slow, deep breaths—just like her doctor taught us.
Gradually, her breaths evened out, the tension in her body softening. "I'm sorry," she whispered, voice raw. "I'm so weak." She gave a bitter laugh and rested her head on my shoulder.
I shook my head, humming softly.
"You're not weak. You've been fighting this alone for years.
" My gaze lifted to the star-strewn sky.
"That's not weakness, Ro. That's courage.
That's you." I rested my cheek against her temple.
"A little more, okay? Just a little more.
" My voice cracked. I swallowed hard. "But if your body can't hold it anymore.
.. promise me you'll tell me. Don't leave me in the dark. "
Aurora didn't answer. She didn't have to. The silence between us was the truth—the one neither of us wanted to say aloud.
Because both of us knew: Everything from here on was uncertain. And all we had was hope—and the fragile wish for a miracle.