Chapter 17
The medevac helicopter cut through the night sky.
Ethan sat beside Sarah, Lily cradled carefully in her arms, an oxygen
mask on her small face.
Sarah was pale, trembling, her eyes fixed on Lily.
Ethan wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he didn’t dare.
The chasm between them, created by years of his cruelty, was too vast.
They landed at the best children’s hospital in the state.
A team of specialists was waiting.
Lily was rushed into the pediatric ICU.
Into the new gene therapy program Ethan had secured for her.
The waiting was agony.
Hours crawled by.
Ethan stayed by Sarah’s side in the sterile, impersonal waiting room.
He brought her coffee she didn’t drink, food she didn’t touch.
He didn’t speak much. What could he say?
“I’m sorry” felt so inadequate, so meaningless, after everything.
But he was there.
No longer the cruel avenger.
No longer the distant, anonymous benefactor.
Just a father.
A terrified father, praying for his daughter’s life.
Finally, Dr. Albright emerged, his face tired but smiling.
“The initial phase of the therapy is complete,” he announced. “Lily
responded well. She’s a fighter.”
Relief, so potent it was almost painful, washed over Sarah. She sagged
against the wall, tears streaming down her face.
Ethan felt his own knees weaken.
“She’s not out of the woods yet,” Dr. Albright cautioned. “But this is a
very positive start.”
During the long days and nights of Lily’s initial recovery, Ethan was a
constant presence.
He was gentle with Lily, reading her stories, coaxing her to eat.
He was respectful and hesitant with Sarah.
He brought her meals, made sure she rested.
He talked to her, not about their past, but about Lily. About his own
childhood, his regrets, his mistakes.
Slowly, cautiously, Sarah began to talk to him.
Not as a victim to her tormentor.
But as one parent to another.
Sharing fears. Sharing hopes.
For Lily.
One evening, as they sat by Lily’s bedside, watching her sleep, Ethan
spoke, his voice low.
“Sarah … I remember.”
Sarah looked at him, her eyes questioning.
“I remember everything,” he continued, his gaze fixed on Lily. “The
storm. The truck … and then waking up. In the hospital. Before.”
He looked at Sarah then, his eyes filled with a strange, shared
understanding.
“Do you? Do you remember?”
Sarah nodded slowly, tears welling in her eyes.
The shared secret of their rebirth.
Their impossible second chance.
It hung in the air between them, a fragile, unbelievable bond.
“I was a fool,” Ethan whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “A
monster. I … I think I loved you even then, Sarah. Even when I was
destroying you. But I was so twisted by hate. For what happened to
Olivia. For what I thought your father did … “
He couldn’t finish. The weight of his past actions, his cruelty, was too
much.
Sarah looked at him, at the genuine anguish in his eyes.
For Lily’s sake, she hadn’t pushed him away.
Now, for some other reason, a reason she couldn’t yet name, she didn’t
want to.