Chapter 5

She stood up, walked to the door, and suddenly turned back.

"Ms. Sinclair," she said.

"Yeah?" I replied.

"I've been working on divorce cases for twelve years. For clients as level-headed as you? I typically don't get more than three," she said, then left.

I leaned back against the headboard, my hand resting on my belly. There was a new scar there, and beneath it, nothing remained. But my heart felt full.

On the day I was discharged, Morgan showed up with a huge bouquet of white lisianthus and a folder.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's a plan for Hugo's cochlear implant," Morgan said, handing me the folder. "I talked to the top specialists in the country. He'll need the surgery when he's about one, and I've already lined up the rehab center for him."

I flipped through the folder. It was thick, packed with everything. Surgery details, recovery plans, doctor bios, and budget estimates. Every little thing was covered.

On the last page, in Morgan's handwriting, there was a line that read, [First phase of rehab: two to three years. Location: Therin.]

And underneath, a note in small letters that read, [I'm transferring to the Therin branch. I'll be there with him.]

I closed the folder.

"Morgan, I've already signed the divorce papers," I said.

"I know," he replied.

"The child stays with me," I said.

"I know," he replied.

"You are not obligated to..." I started.

"Raine Sinclair." For the first time in three years, he called me by my full name. "This isn't a responsibility. It's my debt."

He set the flowers on the windowsill. The white lisianthus melted into the white walls of the hospital room. You couldn't tell where the petals ended, and where the wall began.

"I don't want you to ever pay me back," I said. "I want you to keep owing me. Always."

He met my gaze. "Then I'll owe you. For a lifetime."

Then he turned and walked away. When he reached the door, he paused, his back to me, and his voice was barely a whisper, soft as an oak leaf drifting to the floor.

"That day outside the delivery room, I wasn't waiting for her. I was waiting for myself," he said.

The door closed. His footsteps echoed down the hallway, fading into the distance.

I sat on the edge of the bed, hugging that bouquet of white lisianthus, and a memory hit me out of nowhere.

On our wedding night, I'd asked him what kind of flowers he liked. He said lisianthus. I asked him why, and he just shrugged it off.

But later, I found an old photo tucked away in his study drawer. In it, Belle was holding a bouquet of white lisianthus, her eyes crinkling with happiness as she smiled.

I set the flowers aside and gently lifted Hugo out of the incubator. He stirred in my arms, his mouth opening without a sound, but his tiny hand gripped my finger so tightly, like he was holding on for dear life, afraid to let go.

I lowered my head and softly pressed my lips to his forehead.

"Hugo, Mommy's taking you home," I said quietly.

*****

Morgan and I were introduced through a matchmaking setup.

It was the fall when I was twenty-four, just a year out of design school, working as an assistant designer at a jewelry company.

My mentor mentioned a chance to study in Modegan and asked if I wanted to go. I told him I'd think about it, but honestly, I'd already decided. My passport was ready to go.

Then my mom called, saying she wanted to set me up with someone.

"It's Morgan Sterling, the third Sterling son. Your dad used to do business with their family, and they asked for you by name," she said.

"Mom, I'm going to Modegan," I said.

"Just meet him once. After that, you can still go to Modegan," she said.

I went. The meeting was set at a restaurant in Therin's business district. When I got there, he was already seated by the window, checking his phone. He wore a deep blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to his wrists, and a silver watch glinted on his arm.

He looked up and saw me. He was stunned.

That expression stuck with me for a long time. It wasn't awe, and it wasn't just polite. It was the kind of shock that catches you completely off guard. Like he was looking at someone he thought he'd never meet again in this lifetime.

"Hi, I'm Raine Sinclair," I said, reaching out my hand.

He took my hand. His fingers were cool, his knuckles defined, and his grip was just right.

"Morgan Sterling," he greeted.

Then he said, "You look just like her when you smile."

I didn't get it at the time. I thought he was complimenting me, so I smiled back. It wasn't until later that I realized "her" had a name, and it was Belle Everly.

The meal lasted for about an hour and a half. He barely talked. Most of the time, it was just me rambling about my major, the stuff I'd designed, and how I was planning to go to Modegan for further studies. He just listened, only chiming in now and then with questions about my work.

"Your designs have that minimalistic vibe, don't they?" he asked.

"How'd you know?" I replied.

He nodded at my hand. "That pattern on your ring. Did you design it yourself?"