Chapter Six
DEE
Mummy and Daddy are here, and it seems they already know the bad news, which made me angry and relieved at the same time. Angry because they knew before me, but relieved because I didn’t have to tell them and see the look on their faces, knowing I would never give them a grandchild.
They all keep looking at me as I stare out the window at the beautiful, clear blue sky, wondering why the world seems to keep going while I feel it should stop and focus on our issue.
I swallow the lump rising in my throat just as I feel Colt’s hand wrap around mine.
I glance at him, but they’re all watching me, waiting, like I’m supposed to say something.
Their faces are heavy with sympathy, their eyes too soft, too knowing.
I can’t take it.
I can’t take their pity.
So I turn away, letting my gaze drift back to the window, where the sun shines, the sky impossibly blue. It’s the kind of day that shouldn’t exist when your world has fallen apart. And I cling to it, needing the distraction, the illusion of normal.
Anything but this.
“Dee, you seem a million miles away, honey,” Mummy says gently, her voice dragging me back to this all-too-imperfect reality.
I exhale, and Colt’s hand tightens around mine like he’s grounding me. I force myself to look at them, past their concerned expressions, and stretch a smile across my lips. It’s fake, painfully so, but it’s all I can manage.
“Sorry. It’s just… it’s such a perfect day out there,” I say, my voice soft, my eyes drifting toward the window again.
“I’d rather be anywhere but stuck in this hospital room.
I’ve been in here for over a month. I’ve forgotten what the sun even feels like.
Especially since we hardly ever get any at home.
Now I’m in the land of sunshine, and I can’t even go out in it. It’s depressing.”
“Do you want me to see if I can take you out for a bit?” Colt asks, ever attentive. “I’ll grab a wheelchair, we could go to the park or something?”
I nod, and for the first time all morning, a sliver of light pierces the damn fog in my brain.
He smiles, stands, and leans down to kiss my forehead. “I’ll be right back.” As the door clicks shut behind him, silence settles in, heavy and suffocating.
“Deliah, honey,” Daddy says, and I know by his tone something awful is coming, “I know this is a big shock. I can’t imagine how dreadful you must feel.
But sweetheart, you need to focus on getting better.
Once you’re healed physically, you can deal with the rest. But for now… I think you need to snap out of it.”
My head whips toward him, eyes wide in disbelief.
“Ford!” Mummy scolds sharply, her voice low but biting.
But I don’t hold back. I can’t.
“Snap out of it?” I hiss, my voice sharp and shaking.
“You think I can just snap out of it? I found out less than twenty-four hours ago that I can never have children, Daddy. Never. And you want me to pretend I’m fine?
Just flip a damn switch and smile through it?
” My voice rises, hot with pain. “God, you’re so fucking insensitive. ”
“Deliah, language,” he chides, like that’s the issue front and center right now.
And then he keeps going like he hasn’t already said enough.
“Insensitive?” he scoffs. “Sweetheart, being insensitive would be saying you’re acting like a child.
That you’re making this harder on everyone around you by wallowing in misery.
It’s not the end of the world, Deliah. You’re not dying.
You’re not crippled. Hell, you could’ve come out of this accident in a wheelchair.
Or worse… a quadriplegic. But you didn’t.
You got lucky. This? This is a blessing in disguise. ”
I’m frozen.
My jaw clenches.
He’s still talking, like he hasn’t just sucker-punched me.
“You weren’t even trying to have a child yet. You need to stop making this bigger than it is. Not being able to conceive isn’t the end of your world unless you let it be.”
I blink at him, stunned. My father’s words hit harder than I thought humanly possible.
“No, but—”
“But nothing, Deliah,” he cuts in, tone clipped.
“You don’t even want kids right now, so why are you torturing yourself over something that might not matter for years?
Worry about it when you and Colter are actually ready to start a family.
Until then, you’ve got frozen eggs, adoption, fostering…
” He breathes heavily. “You have options, Deliah. You’re acting like it’s the end of the world, but it’s not.
You’re blowing this way out of proportion. ”
“Ford, stop it,” Mummy says, her voice tight with warning.
But he barrels on, “No, Liz. She needs to stop acting like a brat, and you need to stop mollycoddling her.”
My brows pinch together in disbelief, my frustration boiling over. “Well, if I’m such a fucking child, then maybe I’ll stop calling you Daddy. Maybe I’ll just go with Dad from now on,” I snap, swiping at the tears streaking my face.
He doesn’t even flinch. “That’s your call, Deliah. You’ll always be my little girl. And that’s why I think you need some tough love—”
“Well, maybe I don’t want tough fucking love!”
“No one wants it, Deliah,” he says flatly.
“But sometimes we need it. You have got to stop making this about yourself and think about Colter. He nearly lost you. Think about your mother, who almost lost her only child. Think about your friends, watching you spiral and shut them out. You’re clinging to something you can’t change.
And if you can’t fix it, then you deal with it.
Life doesn’t pause because you’re in pain.
You pick yourself up and move forward. That’s how you live.
Otherwise, what are you doing? Sitting in here, wasting away?
That’s not living, it’s wallowing. And you’re better than this. ”
“Ford, that’s enough,” Mummy says, her voice sharp as steel. “You’re upsetting her.”
Too late.
I’m already crying.
Not because he’s wrong, but because somewhere deep down, I know there’s truth in what he said. But I can’t just bounce back. I can’t just ‘deal with it.’ I’m grieving something I’ll never get back, and the pain is so heavy I can barely breathe through it.
I try to hold it in, but the sob cracks through my chest just as Colt walks in, pushing a wheelchair, his eyes immediately narrowing at the tension in the room.
“Hey… what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I mutter, voice thick. “Dad…” I emphasize the word, “… was just leaving.”
Colt’s gaze shifts to my father, who shakes his head and huffs like he’s the damn victim here.
“Deliah, your mother and I came all the way from London to see you,” he says, exasperated. “We’ve been here for weeks, supporting you, and now you’re kicking us out?”
I push the blanket aside and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my movements stiff and shaky. Colt rushes to steady me as I slide down into the chair, breath catching at the small victory of the movement not hurting as much as I feared it might.
“Thank you for coming,” I say coolly. “But if you won’t leave… then I will.” I settle into the seat with a shaky exhale and look up at Colt. “Can you take me outside, please?”
Colt creases his eyebrows and looks over at Dad in confusion.
“We will head over to the hotel, honey, and come back tomorrow when you’re feeling better. I love you, sweetheart,” Mummy says, before she walks over and kisses my head. I manage a half-smile when she looks at me lovingly, then turns back to Dad with a glare.
He huffs and walks out of the room, with Mummy following closely behind.
“Wanna tell me what that was all about?” Colt asks.
I sigh, shaking my head, not knowing what to say, but I give it a go. “He thinks I should just snap out of it, like it’s that simple,” I say, and Colt leans down and kisses my lips tenderly.
“Baby, you take all the time you need. Don’t let your father or anyone dictate the way you should be feeling. Only you know how to deal with it, and no matter how long it takes for you to feel better, I will be here for you,” he reassures me with a smile.
I nod. At least I know someone is on my side.
“So shall we take you out into the big, beautiful world?” Colt asks.
“Oh, God, yes,” I reply, relaxing into the chair and finally feeling a slight sense of happiness. I’m going outside for the first time in ages, and I can’t wait.
Colt chuckles, taking hold of the chair and wheeling me out of my room and down the hallway.
I’m numb.
I think the misery of dealing with Dad and the happiness of going outside are canceling each other out, so I feel nothing.
We make our way to the automatic doors at the back of the hospital.
I can’t go all the way to the park as there’s too much risk of paparazzi, but Colt guides me into the hospital gardens instead.
The sun beams down from a flawless, cloudless sky, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I take a deep breath that doesn’t ache.
Dad was right.
It is better to be alive with no terminal illness, no life-altering disability.
He’s also right that I should be grateful.
I survived.
And aside from a broken leg, I came through in one piece. I mean, who’s to say I would have even been able to get pregnant? It doesn’t just happen because you want it to.
We might have needed IVF anyway.
So maybe, just maybe, this path doesn’t mean we can’t be parents.
Maybe it means it will happen differently.
And that’s okay.
I may never carry our child inside me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t love them with everything I have. Love doesn’t start with biology—it begins with heart. And mine has enough room to love a child completely, no matter how they come to us.