Chapter 1
Before Layla left the house, her son was eating breakfast, his face covered in milk bubbles as he grinned.
She switched off her phone and took a trip to Varachonar with her childhood friend.
On the way back, her mom called, her voice barely recognizable through her sobs.
"Your son's got a fever of 104 degrees and has been stuck in the ICU for three days. Where did you disappear to, Layla? What kind of mother are you?"
Layla collapsed onto the couch, her phone clutched in her hand, the screen showing over 99 unread messages.
Her husband, Alfie Willis, had only sent her one message.
[Come back. We need to talk.
[It's about the divorce.]
*****
Layla turned on her phone as soon as the plane touched down.
She leaned against the window, still buckled in. Outside, the runway glistened with rainwater, and Varachonar looked refreshed after the rain.
Moises Noble was sitting next to her. He pushed up the window shade and turned to her. "We've landed. The weather in Varachonar is pretty nice."
Layla glanced at him but didn't say a word.
The signal bars climbed up one by one.
Messages flooded in like a tidal wave.
There were more than 99 messages.
Then, a call came through.
The screen lit up with one word. It read: [Mom].
"Hello?" Layla answered.
"Layla!"
Her mom's voice was hoarse, but even through the phone, it was so piercing it felt like metal scraping against metal.
"Where the hell have you been? I've called you a hundred times!"
Layla pulled the phone away from her ear, her ear buzzing from the noise.
"Mom, slow down. I just landed..."
"Slow down? You want me to slow down?"
Suddenly, her mom broke down, sobbing so hard her words tangled together, barely making sense.
"Camryn's got a fever. He's been stuck in the ICU for three days. Alfie's been running between the hospital and work every day, barely eating, and he's lost weight. Where are you?"
Layla's grip tightened suddenly on her phone.
"What? ICU?" Layla blurted out.
Her mom sobbed, "His fever hit 105.8 degrees. It's pneumonia. He started burning up on the third day you were gone.
"I called you so many times and sent you so many messages. And you just turned your phone off. You turned your phone off!"
Moises shot her a concerned look, his brows furrowed.
Layla gripped her phone, her back pressed against the seat as if she was pinned in place.
"How is he now?" Layla asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her mom practically screamed, "He's still in the ICU. He hasn't been moved out yet. Where are you right now? Get your ass over here!"
The call ended before Layla could say a word.
The line went dead with a quick beep.
"What's wrong?" Moises leaned in, lowering his voice. "Did something happen to your kid?"
Layla stared at her phone screen as it went dark.
Layla said, her voice dry and scratchy, "He's got a fever. He's in the ICU."
Moises gave a quiet "oh," leaned back, and tapped his fingers on the armrest.
"It's pretty common for kids to land in the ICU with a fever. My nephew was there last year..."
"Don't talk," Layla snapped, cutting him off.
Moises shut up.
Her phone buzzed again.
The screen lit up. It read: [Alfie].
Layla took a deep breath and answered.
"Hello," she said.
"Where are you?" Alfie's voice was steady and clear, measured and emotionless, like he'd rehearsed it a hundred times.
He wasn't talking to his wife. He was just confirming the facts.
Layla replied, her voice rough with worry, "Kultaarin. Just landed. Camryn... what did the doctors say?"
There were two seconds of silence. In the background, the elevator chime sounded, soft and distant beneath everything else.
Alfie said, his tone flat and precise, every word weighed, "Severe pneumonia, with mild respiratory failure.
"High fever for three days, peaked at 106.3 degrees. He started respiratory support yesterday afternoon."
Layla's breath snagged in her throat.
"I... I'll book the earliest flight I can," Layla stammered.
Alfie cut her off, his voice calm, almost unsettling, "No need to rush. Camryn's condition is a bit more stable this afternoon. Even if you come, all you'll do is wait in the hallway."
He paused.
"But when you get here, we need to talk."
"About what?" Layla asked.
"About the divorce."
The words drifted through the phone, soft as a feather landing on water.
But the ripples quickly wrapped around Layla, pulling her under.
[Call ended.] The words flashed on the screen for two seconds before fading to black.
Moises turned to her. "What did he say?"
Layla didn't move.
"He wants a divorce," Layla said, her voice flat.
The in-flight announcement came on. "Please fasten your seatbelts. We're about to pull up to the gate."
Moises was quiet for a few seconds, tapping his fingers on his knee.
"He's really overreacting, isn't he? It's not like you made your kid sick on purpose..."
"Can you check the earliest flight from Varachonar to Triverian?"
Layla cut him off, her voice flat and emotionless.
"The sooner, the better."