Chapter Twenty-Five – Where We Begin Again
The Next Day
The quiet hum of fluorescent lights above Asa's hospital room was the only sound for a while.
Nuria sat beside him, eyes tired but soft. After they took Asa away the night before, she couldn't bear the thought of him alone. So, she drove to the hospital that same night, her fingers gently laced with his. She'd been there for hours, speaking softly about how beautiful the day was.
Asa didn't say much—just listened. His eyes were hollow… but slowly, less haunted than before.
The doctor entered quietly.
"Mrs. Leclair?" he asked.
Nuria turned. "Yes?"
He motioned for her to step outside. Asa barely blinked as she carefully released his hand and followed.
In the hallway, the doctor's voice was low—professional, but empathetic.
"There's a specialist facility in Avanridge. A few hours from here. It's one of the best in the region. Long-term residential care, trauma-specific programs, and psychiatric specialists who understand complex emotional trauma and mood disorders. It's private, but highly effective."
Nuria swallowed.
"He's been cooperative. Not well. But willing. That's rare," the doctor added gently.
Nuria nodded slowly. "Can I… speak to someone there?"
"I'll make the call."
---
Driving to the Leclair estate felt heavier than it should have. Nuria clutched the wheel, her knuckles pale. She stared straight ahead, then pressed the call button on the car's Bluetooth.
"Mira?"
"Finally," Mira exhaled. "You disappeared like you moved to the moon. I was beginning to think you'd become a ghost bride or something."
Nuria managed a soft laugh. It died quickly.
"Mira… I just needed someone to talk to. And you picked up—thank you. Things are… complicated. So complicated, if I start I might never finish."
Mira's voice softened. "Hey. Whatever's going on, I'm here. Just know that. I hope everything's okay. Our new stand-in CEO is the most annoying, passive-aggressive, micromanaging old man I've ever encountered. He acts like he's the second coming of business. We all miss Asa. I hope he comes back to work soon—the board is already tense."
Nuria closed her eyes. "I don't know when, but you will surely see Asa again as Ceo."
"I will take your word for it and also you've got this, Nuria. You always do."
"That means so much. Really."
---
Vivienne was already downstairs, seated in the main sitting room when Nuria arrived. A glass of white wine rested in her hand, untouched. The fireplace danced low against the marble.
She stood when Nuria entered. "Darling. What brings you here?"
"I need to speak with you," Nuria said. "Privately."
A pause.
Vivienne gave a small nod and dismissed the maids nearby with a gesture. When they were alone, Nuria sat across from her. Her heart ached just to form the words.
"Asa's in a psychiatric facility," she said.
Vivienne's wine glass stopped mid-air.
"What?"
Nuria told her everything. Every word. The night he came to their house. The breakdown. The confession. The gun. The truth. The doctors. The referral.
Vivienne didn't interrupt. Her breathing shortened, her fingers trembled around the glass.
"My son tried to kill himself," she whispered, almost to herself.
"I didn't want to tell you everything at once," Nuria added gently. "But the doctors think there's a better place in Avanridge. He won't heal in this city. Not with the weight of everything here."
Vivienne's eyes glistened. "You think he should go?"
"I do. And I want to go with him."
A silence fell—thick and uncertain. Then Vivienne nodded slowly.
"Then go. But don't tell Dorian. Don't tell anyone in the family. If they knew… if he knew…"
"They'd pull him out."
Vivienne's voice lowered. "And Asa would never survive it."
"But what about the board? The companies?" Nuria asked. "Asa hasn't been active for months."
"Dorian stepped in as acting CEO. He's managing things—publicly. But I'll handle the rest. Leave everything here to me."
---
Two Days Later – The Leclair Estate
Vivienne stood in the grand foyer, dressed impeccably. Around her, Celeste, Genevieve, and the extended family gathered for brunch.
"I'm afraid Asa and Nuria had to cut their visit short," she announced with perfect poise. "They've returned to the coast. Some urgent, family-related matters."
"They didn't even say goodbye," Genevieve murmured.
Vivienne smiled, but her eyes stayed distant. "He's private. I was shocked he even told me."
Celeste looked dejected.
Behind Vivienne's back, she'd already told Dorian something else entirely—that Asa was missing, and she had no idea where he was, that She was going to make up a lie about him to the family to avoid any embarrassment. To hold off questions that could collapse everything.
---
Three Months Later – Avanridge
The city was smaller. Quieter. Nuria stepped out of the hospital after her afternoon visit. The cool air brushed her cheeks.
She had a routine now—morning tea, therapy twice a week, going to work at this old café at the corner, late visits to the clinic. She and her mother shared a cozy apartment. A temporary haven.
Asa was improving. He was beginning to write again. Read. Paint. Speak more. Ask about the future.
Each day, Nuria brought him something: a snack, a paper crane, a photograph of the sea.
He pinned the cranes to the window. They swayed in the breeze like hope given shape.
In her own therapy sessions, Nuria began naming things she had never dared: fear, shame, guilt. The exhaustion of always being the strong one.
She was learning, too.
And her belly grew.
---
One Month Later
Asa was discharged. He wasn't fully healed, but he had come far. The doctors said he was safe—ready to be home, but with consistent outpatient support.
They moved into a bigger apartment. Sunlight poured through the windows. Asa's eyes looked clearer every morning.
Their relationship was different—quieter, gentler. It wasn't what it had been before marriage. It was better. A friendship being reforged into love. Something real. Something slow.
Asa had regular hospital appointments, but they grew less frequent.
And soon—it was the month of her due date.
---
The Night It Happened – 2:11 AM
Pain shot through Nuria like lightning.
She woke gasping, one hand over her belly. Her phone slipped to the floor.
"Asa," she whispered, panic rising.
He was upright instantly. "What's wrong?"
She couldn't answer—another contraction tore through her.
He moved fast. "Come on. We're going. Right now."
Shoes. Keys. Bag. He wrapped her coat around her shoulders. Her mother emerged from her room, wide-eyed, already grabbing her handbag.
The drive felt eternal. Nuria crushed Asa's hand in hers, her breathing sharp and erratic.
"It's okay," he whispered. "You're okay. We're almost there."
They arrived. Nurses rushed forward. A wheelchair. Bright lights. Murmurs. The cold floor beneath rubber soles. The sharp scent of antiseptic.
"You're 6 cm already," the nurse announced. "It won't be long."
Time blurred. Sweat clung to Nuria's skin. Asa stayed beside her, whispering her name, holding her hand.
When the doctor said, "Push," she gritted her teeth, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"I can't—"
"You can," Asa said, voice shaking. "You already are."
One more push.
A cry split the air.
Not hers.
The baby's.
She collapsed back, chest heaving. Asa's mouth parted in awe.
""It's a boy," the nurse said, smiling.
"Who would like to hold him first?" she asked.
Nuria smiled, feeling tired, and looked over at Asa, signalling for the nurse to give him the baby.
After wrapping the baby in a towel, the nurse gently placed him in Asa's trembling arms. "You have a son," she said.
As he stood there, a wave of emotion surged over him, and soon, tears streamed down his cheeks.
Not out of pain.
The moment he laid eyes on his son—so tiny, breathing softly, and blinking with the familiar warmth of Nuria's eyes—he was overwhelmed with emotion. In that instant, he truly believed that this little being was alive, a symbol of new hope that felt undeniably precious and beautiful.