Esmeralda
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When consciousness returned, it came in fragments. The steady rhythm of monitors, soft beeps breaking the silence. The sharp tang of antiseptic lingered in the air, sterile and cold. Voices, distant and muffled, gradually sharpened, cutting through the fog in her mind.
"—should have told me she wasn't eating or sleeping properly." Penny's voice, tight with worry.
Esmeralda stirred, her fingers twitching weakly against the sheets. The voices grew clearer, louder, tugging her fully into awareness.
Then Esmeralda's heart stopped.
No. No, no, no.
"I'm so sorry," Penny whispered frantically. "He woke up crying for you, and when Julian called about you fainting, I couldn't—"
But Esmeralda couldn't focus on the explanations. Her entire world had narrowed to Alex's face as he stared at the doorway, at the little boy with his dark curls and storm-grey eyes—eyes exactly like his own.
The silence in the room was deafening.
Luca clutched his dragon plush, looking uncertain at all the strange faces. "Mama? Are you sick?"
Three years of careful planning, of protective secrets, shattered in a single moment. She watched as Alex's expression shifted from confusion to shock to something else entirely as his brilliant mind pieced it together. The timing. The resemblance. The truth.
"Esmeralda." His voice was barely a whisper, raw with realisation. "Is he..."
The monitors beside his bed began beeping more rapidly.
"Mr. Vale," Dr. Reginald stepped forward, concerned. "Your blood pressure—"
But Alex wasn't listening. His storm-grey eyes were locked on Luca, unwavering and intense, drinking in every detail as though committing them to memory. The way the boy stood, with a hint of defiance and curiosity, the slight tilt of his head that mirrored Alex's own when deep in thought, the quiet confidence in his posture—all of it unmistakably familiar. It was as though he was looking at a reflection of himself, a version untouched by the weight of his past. Every movement, every subtle gesture, only deepened the truth Alex was beginning to piece together, and it rendered him completely still.
"Three years," he said finally, his voice strange. "When you left... you were..."
"Mama?" Luca's voice trembled slightly, picking up on the tension in the room. He took a small step forward, dragon clutched tighter to his chest. "The knight from our stories..."
Esmeralda's heart clenched. Of course—even at three, Luca would recognise the man she'd unknowingly described in every bedtime tale.
"Penny," she managed, her voice barely steady. "Could you take Luca to get some hot chocolate?"
But Alex's voice cut through, soft yet commanding. "Wait."
His eyes hadn't left Luca, drinking in every detail as if afraid the boy might disappear. The monitors beside his bed continued their frantic beeping, but he seemed oblivious to everything except the child before him.
"What's your dragon's name?" he asked quietly, his tone gentler than Esmeralda had ever heard it.
Luca glanced at Esmeralda uncertainly before answering. "Storm. Because his eyes are grey like mine."
Something flickered across Alex's face—an emotion so raw and layered that Esmeralda couldn't name it. Pain, wonder, anger—they all seemed to battle for dominance, each leaving its mark in the tightening of his jaw and the storm brewing in his eyes. His knuckles whitened as they gripped the bed rail, the tension in his hands betraying the overwhelming intensity of what he was feeling. For a moment, he looked utterly unguarded, the walls he'd always kept so carefully intact crumbling under the weight of realisation.
"Like yours," he repeated softly, then looked at Esmeralda. The raw emotion in his eyes made her breath catch. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
Before she could answer, Dr. Reginald stepped forward decisively. "Everyone out. Both my patients need rest, and these monitors are telling me neither of you are in any condition for this conversation right now."
"No." Alex's voice was steel. "I've lost three years. I'm not losing another minute."
The monitor beside Esmeralda's bed began beeping in sharp, urgent tones, a stark reflection of her spiralling panic. Her chest tightened, each breath growing shallower as the weight of the moment pressed down on her. Black spots blurred the edges of her vision, distorting the room into fragments of light and shadow. She clutched the sheets beneath her, trying to anchor herself, but the rising tide of panic threatened to pull her under. Voices blurred, her surroundings melting into a haze of chaos and fear.
"Mr. Vale," Dr. Reginald's tone left no room for argument. "Your wife's heart rate is dangerously elevated, and yours isn't much better. Either you both rest now, or I'll have you sedated and physically restrained to these beds. Your choice."
"You wouldn't dare—" Alex started, but the doctor cut him off.
"Try me." Dr. Reginald's eyes narrowed. "I've been your physician for fifteen years, Alexander. You know I will."
Luca's small voice broke through the tension. "Mama? Your heart is going too fast?"
The innocent concern in his voice—so like Alex's when he was worried—made something in her chest crack. The room swam again.
"That's it," Dr. Reginald moved swiftly to adjust her IV. "Mrs. Moreau needs rest. Now." He turned to Penny. "Take the boy for that hot chocolate. These two have my word they'll both be here when you return."
"Storm grey eyes," Alex murmured, still staring at Luca. "Like in your stories about the knight?"
The last thing Esmeralda saw before the sedative took hold was Alex's face—a complex mix of wonder, hurt, and something that looked dangerously like love as he watched their son leave the room.
"Three hours," Dr. Reginald said firmly as Esmeralda's eyes grew heavy. "You both get three hours of mandatory rest. After that, if your vitals are stable, you can have your conversation."
Through the growing haze, she heard Alex's voice, uncharacteristically quiet. "Will you..." He cleared his throat. "Will you make sure the boy—my son—has everything he needs?"
"Penny knows what Luca likes," she managed to mumble, fighting the sedative. "His favourite hot chocolate has..."
"Mini marshmallows and a sprinkle of cinnamon," Alex finished, making her eyes flutter open in surprise. "I heard him tell the nurse. He talks just like you when he's explaining things."
Their eyes met across the space between their beds. Even through her sedated state, she could see the storm of emotions in his grey eyes—the same eyes she'd watched for three years in their son's face.
"But he stands like you," she whispered, the drugs making her honest. "When he's thinking hard about something, he gets that same little crease between his..."
"Rest," Dr. Reginald ordered, though his tone had softened. "Both of you. The boy will be fine with his aunt, and you'll have plenty of time to discuss all of this when you're both more stable."
"Three years," Alex said again, and she could hear the weight of lost time in his voice. "All those bedtime stories about a knight with storm grey eyes..."
"Were the only way I could give him a piece of you," she confessed, the sedative finally pulling her under. "Even if he didn't know..."
The last thing she heard before darkness claimed her was Alex's whispered response:
"I would have given him everything."
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