Page 33 of Nolan

"Ashlynn," Annabelle begins carefully, "I'm not,"

"You know what," I interrupt, making a decision I've been dancing around for months, maybe since the day Annabelle walked into our lives. "That's actually not a bad idea."

Annabelle's head snaps up, her eyes meeting mine, a question in them that I'm suddenly very ready to answer.

"We should talk about that," I say softly, just for her. "When we get home."

The smile that spreads across her face is like sunrise breaking over the horizon, slow, beautiful, full of promise. And despite the hospital room, despite the night of worry, despite the encounter with Lisa, I find myself smiling back, feeling for the first time in years that we're not just surviving day to day, but moving toward something brighter.

"When we get home," Annabelle agrees, and in those four words, I hear a future opening up before us.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Annabelle

The antiseptic smell of the hospital has become almost comforting after three days. I've memorized the patterns of the ceiling tiles, counted the flowers on the wallpaper border, and learned every squeak in the vinyl chair beside Ashlynn's bed. As I watch her small chest rise and fall in sleep, I can hardly believe we're finally going home today.

"Her fever's been normal for twenty-four hours now," the pediatrician says, flipping through her chart. "The influenza is resolving nicely. Just make sure she stays hydrated and gets plenty of rest."

Nolan nods beside me, his hand unconsciously finding mine between our chairs. We've been doing that a lot these past few days, reaching for each other in moments of fear, relief, exhaustion. It feels natural now, this physical connection.

"Thank you, Dr. Chen," he says, voice rough from lack of sleep. The shadows under his eyes match my own, I'm sure.

When the doctor leaves, Nolan squeezes my hand. "You should go home, get some real sleep. I can handle the discharge process."

I shake my head immediately. "I'm staying until we all leave together."

His eyes soften, and something passes between us that makes my heart stutter. "Thank you," he whispers. "For everything."

Ashlynn stirs then, her eyelids fluttering open. "Daddy? Anna?" Her voice is small but stronger than it's been since this ordeal began.

"We're here, sweet pea," I say, moving to perch on the edge of her bed. "Guess what? We're going home today."

Her smile, though tired, lights up her whole face. "Can I have mac and cheese at home?"

Nolan laughs, the sound breaking through days of tension. "Whatever you want, princess."

Two hours later, I'm carrying Ashlynn's favorite stuffed unicorn while Nolan carries her, wrapped in a blanket despite the mild spring day. The way he holds her, so careful and precious, makes something shift in my chest.

At home, we settle into a quiet routine. Nolan makes the promised mac and cheese while I help Ashlynn change into fresh pajamas. As I brush her tangled hair, she leans back against me with complete trust.

"Anna" she says, her voice still raspy, "are you going to stay forever?"

The question catches me off guard, and I meet her solemn blue eyes in the mirror. Eyes just like her father's. "What do you mean, sweetie?"

"Sometimes nannies go away. Like on TV." She fiddles with the hem of her unicorn pajama top. "I don't want you to go away."

My throat tightens painfully. "I'm not planning on going anywhere," I tell her, careful not to make promises I can't keep. But the truth is, I can't imagine being anywhere else.

After dinner, which Ashlynn barely touches despite her earlier request, we tuck her into bed. She falls asleep almost immediately, her small body still fighting to recover.

Nolan and I stand side by side at her doorway, watching her sleep.

"I thought," his voice breaks, and he clears his throat. "When her fever hit 104, I thought..."

"I know," I whisper, reaching for his hand again. I've never seen him so vulnerable, not even after that kiss we've both been pretending never happened.

We move to the living room, collapsing onto the couch. The past few days catch up with me at once, and I feel tears pressing behind my eyes.

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