Chapter 5

　　Orlena's POV

　　I had buried my father in my heart that morning, but painfully, the universe is asking me to stay and care for a child who wasn't mine and who would never be mine.

　　Isn't that cruel? The thought of that almost made me laugh.

　　"Acute lymphoblastic leukaemia?" I muttered the words repeatedly; they sat still, like tiny pebbles on my tongue. I couldn't spit them out nor could I gulp them down my throat.

　　I looked at Brent and for the first time in six years, something cracked behind those cold and composed eyes.

　　Fear. Unguarded fear, so obvious that one could use a knife to cut it into tiny bits.

　　The same Brent who could silence the entire boardroom, with a single stare now standing before me, his lips trembling, all because a little boy was in the other room calling my name?

　　Not his own name for heaven's sake? Mine!

　　"How long has he been sick?" I asked, and my voice came out steadier than I had imagined.

　　"The Doctor found out two weeks ago," he replied, chest heaving, trying to calm those strange tensions behind his voice. "I was going to let you know after the business trip…"

　　Two weeks? That sat tight in my chest.

　　Two weeks of him keeping this from me and not asking for my help or my input.

　　Joan shifted beside him, clutching Brent tighter like a dog that wouldn't let go of its precious bone.

　　It was obvious that our conversation wasn't sitting well with her.

　　"Brent." She said softly, "The hospital is waiting. We should start going."

　　We? She said we. The word sat deep in my heart. Like she was the lady of this house that had earned her place and I was a stranger who had used six years of her life learning every corner of it.

　　My lips pressed into a thin line. The hot reply burned in my throat, but I swallowed it completely.

　　"Oriena," Brent stepped closer, reducing the distance between us. The exhaustion on my face, palpable, " I know what I am asking from you right now is not fair… But…"

　　He paused mid-sentence. Like the next couple of words would cost him something. Probably his life.

　　"B…But… Eli needs you…" His lips trembled for the umpteenth time. "Just stay until he gets better."

　　Behind him, Joan's smile had thinned out, dissolving into something I could easily grasp. Jealousy.

　　"I'll stay," I replied.

　　Not for Brent. Not for even the contract and the money I no longer cared about.

　　But for Eli. That little boy, who had held my hand on his first day at school and refused to let go. The one who had always wanted me to attend to him while other maids in the house were less busy.

　　I would stay for him.

　　***

　　The hospital smelled just the same way every hospital had always smelled.

　　Antiseptic, fake hope all layer on top of each other like a stigma that wouldn't go away, and until one wouldn't know which one to tear apart from which one.

　　Eli had already been admitted, the drip hooked to the underneath of his nose, tracing to his tiny arm.

　　The moment I stepped into the room, his eyes flew open.

　　Mama Lena!"

　　That was what he used to call me, not mom. I stepped into the room. I reached for a chair, and I drew it close to him. To his bed.

　　"I am here. My little angel." I said, " I am right here." I drifted my hand to his hair, roughing slightly, and drawing him closer to peck his forehead.

　　Like a son who had been separated from his mother's care due to…

　　Eli let out a deep breath like someone who had been holding it for a long time since he got into the hospital.

　　Something painful moved through my chest.

　　Brent stood at the door watching us. He cleared his throat to indicate that he had stepped into the room. I didn't turn, I didn't have to, for me to know that he had gotten into the room.

　　Joan stood behind his shoulder the way she had always.

　　***

　　Two hours later, I had stepped out of Eli's ward. The air thickened in the room and it seemed unbearable for me to take in. Especially having Joan in the same room with me.

　　The corridor was quiet at the end of the ward. The only thing I could hear was the distant sounds of trolleys and low voices carrying through.

　　I leaned against the wall, eyes closed, one hand pressed against my stomach without me even thinking.

　　My baby. That was the only thing making me a bit sane right now and here I am still married and glued to a man who didn't see it as sin making a life with another woman right in front of me.

　　Here I am carrying a secret about my pregnancy that could unravel everything.

　　And amidst all of these. I had promised to stay.

　　I let out a slow breath like my lungs had been held up for a long time.

　　"You look terrible,"

　　The word hit me like a hammer slamming against my chest.

　　I opened my eyes. My eyelids flickered, and I turned.

　　Right in front of me. A woman. A few minutes apart. Leaning against the wall opposite me. With one of her arms folded and the other wrapped around a cup of coffee going cold in her hand.

　　Probably in her late forties, her eyes sharp like an eagle, and a thin strip of gray hair at the … someone I could not recognize.

　　"Thank you," I said flatly. Like she should go away and let me deal with my problem.

　　She smiled, unbothered. " I am Dr Matilda, Eli's oncologist."

　　"Oh!"

　　I brightened my eyes. Straightened up slightly.

　　"I have been watching you in there," she pointed to the direction of the ward where Eli was, "you are the one he kept asking about.." she said quietly, "are you his mother?"

　　The word dropped like a stone in a shallow… my eyes blinked fast.

　　"I…I…"

　　My throat suddenly clogged up.

　　"Don't worry… dear I quite understand…" she quickly cut in, putting a smile like someone who knows the answer before she even asked.

　　"Anyway, Eli is going to need you and the emotional stability of the people around him matters a lot, because the treatment is going to be long and…".

　　She paused like someone measuring her words, " brutal…"

　　I didn't respond. I didn't know what to say. I nodded slowly.

　　Then she studied me in a way that felt deliberate.

　　"You should also let someone take care of you," she said firmly, her eyes dropped to my mid-section. Before returning to my face.

　　"Especially that little gift inside of you."

　　My stomach dropped.