Chapter 1
Ten years ago, Charles Carter and I broke up in our rented apartment.
He said he was heading back to his hometown to take over the family business and told me not to wait for him.
I said okay. I didn't tell him I'd gotten into grad school, or that I was pregnant with his child.
I figured, if he didn't want me in his life, then he didn't need to know about mine either.
Ten years later, when my daughter, Selina Christ, suddenly got sick, I took her straight to the state hospital.
As I sat in the exam room, I heard a nurse call out, "Dr. Carter, Room 3 has an emergency."
The door swung open, and Charles walked in, wearing his white coat.
He looked over the medical chart, and then glanced up at me. Then he froze.
Selina whispered timidly, "Mommy..."
Charles's gaze moved from my face to Selina's, and his expression changed instantly.
*****
The corridor lights were blindingly white.
Joyce Christ held Selina close, and her heart felt like it was burning up with Selina's fever.
"Mommy, I don't feel good," Selina whispered.
Her voice was barely audible, like a sick little kitten.
Selina Christ, nine years old.
She was always so full of energy, but this afternoon, she suddenly came down with a high fever and started convulsing.
The clinic's doctor went pale and told them to get to the state hospital right away.
The ER was buzzing with voices, the air heavy with the sharp scent of disinfectant and the stress of worried families.
Joyce's heart seemed to be gripped tight by an invisible hand.
They waited in line, checked in, and went through triage.
The nurse took Selina's temperature, her brow furrowing as she saw the number. "104.2°F. This is serious. Come with me."
Holding Selina close, Joyce hurried after the nurse, barely keeping up.
She led them into a small exam room, the air charged with tension.
While the nurse was applying physical cooling to Selina, she grabbed the phone. "Dr. Carter, Room 3 has an emergency—high fever with convulsions. Please come over right away."
Joyce's heart was in her throat.
She pressed her cheek to Selina's burning forehead, reassuring her again and again. "It's fine, Selina. The doctor's coming soon."
The exam room door swung open, and a tall figure entered like a gust of wind.
He wore a crisp white coat, moving quickly but not flustered.
"What's the situation?" he asked, his voice low and calm.
That voice was like a rusty key, forcing open memories Joyce had kept locked away for ten years.
All at once, her body went rigid.
The doctor walked over to the bed, quickly scanning the nurse's notes.
Then he looked up. His gaze swept past Selina and locked onto Joyce's face.
Time seemed to freeze in that moment.
The doctor was Charles Carter.
It had been ten years.
Charles was leaner now, his features sharper. The boyishness was gone, replaced by the composed confidence and professionalism of a grown man.
But those eyes were still the same, deep and mysterious, like a bottomless lake.
Charles was stunned.
His fingers tightened around the medical chart, his knuckles turning white.
His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.
The exam room was so quiet.
Only the soft beeping of the machines filled the silence.
"Mommy..." Selina, unsettled by the heavy atmosphere, called out timidly from the bed.
That one word was like a bolt of lightning, shattering the tense standoff between us.
Charles's gaze, like he was being pulled by invisible strings, stiffly moved from Joyce's face to Selina's, inch by inch.
That little face was the spitting image of his.
Especially those eyes, and that straight nose.
Charles's eyes widened in shock.
The color drained from his face in an instant, leaving only shock and disbelief.
He looked at Joyce, his eyes a storm of shock and turmoil.
Joyce forced herself to calm down.
She couldn't lose her cool.
Selina was still sick.
She took a deep breath, met Charles's gaze, and forced herself to sound calm. "Dr. Carter, please check on my daughter first. She's burning up."
The way she addressed him was like a needle, jolting Charles back to reality.
He held back the surging emotions in his eyes, slipping back into the role of a calm, professional pediatrician.
He started the examination.
He listened to Selina's heartbeat, checked her throat, and tested her reflexes.
His movements were quick and professional, but Joyce could see that his lowered lashes were slightly trembling.
Once the exam was done, he began issuing orders rapidly.
"Get her admitted immediately," he told the nurse. "Run a blood panel, EEG, and rush all the tests."
The nurse nodded and hurried off to carry out his orders.
The exam room was quiet, just the three of them.
Charles kept his eyes glued to the chart, but his words were meant for Joyce. "Has she ever had anything like this before?"
Joyce said, "No."
"Any family history of genetic illness?"
Joyce said, "No."
Her answers were curt and icy, not a shred of emotion.
Right now, she was just a mom of a sick kid, and Charles was just a doctor. Nothing more.