Kamille’s POV

Going back into the hospital, I placed my hands gently over my chest and felt my heart beat heavily. I paused before opening the door to the ward and took a deep breath. I had put on a show for Zeke, but honestly, I was still consumed by the heat and tension of what happened in his kitchen. The mere thought of it made heat creep up my neck.

I stepped into the room after a moment, hoping my emotions weren't too obvious. But Belle's sharp eyes caught my flushed cheeks instantly. "Hey, Kam," she greeted me. Her gaze lingered longer than necessary.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she took in my disheveled appearance. "You look like you've seen a ghost. What's going on?"

I forced a smile and tried to brush off her questions. "Nothing, Belle. I fell asleep while the cookies baked."

"Hmm, I see," Belle replied, clearly unconvinced. "Zeke stopped by looking for you earlier," she mentioned casually, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I told him you were at the penthouse. Did he visit?"

A laugh escaped me as I dropped the box of cookies onto the table, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "Oh, did you now?" I muttered.

"Yeah, he seemed concerned and worried when he didn't see you here," Belle continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

With a twist of my lips, I scoffed, "Well, isn't that just peachy. I'm sure he was thrilled."

Before Belle could respond, the door swung open, and the kids burst in, their laughter filling the air. Their arrival startled Royer awake. I watched as my children devoured the cookies, and the now-awake Royer joined in the fun.

While I watched them, my phone vibrated. I pulled it out.

Hey Kamille,

How is Royer doing? I saw the other kids at school today and promised to visit. In fact, I'm already at reception.

I'd really love to see how you're doing.

Chris.

I sighed and replied. To meet Chris, I needed to compose myself; I didn't want an awkward conversation.

I looked at the kids, then at Belle. "Hey, Belle, I have to step out for a while."

"Alright, Kam. I've got this." She smiled warmly.

"Hey kids, Mummy's stepping out. Be good, okay?" I crouched down to their level.

"Yes, Mummy," they chorused, and I smiled.

I left the ward for the waiting area. A beautiful flower bouquet and a fluffy teddy bear greeted me. "Hey, Chris," I greeted him with a smile.

"Hello, Ms. Kamille," Chris replied, giving me a hug before handing me the gifts. "I got these for you."

"Oh, Chris, I'm not the one who's sick," I replied jokingly, and he laughed.

"Yeah, but you still deserve a gift for your labor of love," he said.

"I don't mind at all. I'd go to the ends of the world to protect my kids," I said with determination.

Chris laughed heartily. "Alright, Ms. Kamille, I believe you. I'd love to see the kids too."

"Alright, but Royer gets the teddy bear, and the flowers can be potted." I grinned.

"Ouch," Chris feigned a stab to his chest. "That hurts. But I understand."

"Good. Let's go," I said and headed toward the exit. This felt like the truest emotion I'd shown since seeing Zeke.

We arrived at the ward, and the kids greeted him playfully. Chris chatted with them briefly before turning to me.

"Going already?" I asked.

"Yes, I am. I'm sorry I can't stay longer," Chris said apologetically.

"Why's that?" I asked, my brows furrowing.

"Mr. Reid is very conservative and doesn't like visitors overstaying," he replied solemnly. His gaze seemed distant. Maybe Zeke just wanted to keep my stay confidential.

"It's fine. I understand," I replied. He smiled, and I returned the smile.

After a silent moment, Chris spoke again. "I don't mean to intrude," he began hesitantly, "but as a father myself, I can't help but wonder… Royer seems fine. He only had a mild concussion. Are you sure you're not being held here against your will?"

His question surprised me. Then I remembered the doctor's explanation: Royer was stable but needed observation for a week or two.

I forced a smile. "Oh, it's nothing like that," I reassured him. "The doctors want to keep an eye on him. I'm fine with it, really."

"Okay," he responded. But his cheerful expression clouded with sadness.

"Hold on, Chris. You mentioned you're a father too?"

His gaze dropped. "Yeah," he replied quietly.

Noticing his downcast expression, I asked gently, "Is everything okay? You seem troubled."

"I don't really talk about it," he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

"Chris, you can talk to me," I said sincerely. His face was distraught.

"I… I have a child," Chris admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I was married and had twin boys. But… there was a car accident, and my wife… she didn't make it. One of the twins… he didn't either."

Tears welled in my eyes. I understood his pain. The puzzle pieces clicked into place; his withdrawn demeanor was due to his heavy burden.

Without a word, I hugged him tightly.

"Oh, Chris," I murmured, my voice choked with emotion. "I'm so sorry. That's… unimaginable loss."

He hugged me back. We stood there, embracing. I silently prayed no one should suffer such a tragedy. I couldn't imagine life without my children. Chris was a true survivor.