<h4>Chapter 160: Don’t Want It</h4>


    Hailee’s POV


    I didn’t move for two hours. Not once. I just sat there at the edge of the bed, my eyes fixed on Oscar’s little chest, rising and falling so faintly that every breath felt like a gift I was terrified of losing.


    My hand never left his. His small fingers were limp in mine, warm but without their usual spark, and I kept rubbing them gently as if that alone could coax him back to me. My cheeks were stiff with dried tears, but my eyes still burned. Every now and then, another tear would slip free and fall onto his nket.


    Oliver and Ozzy had refused to leave. Theyy curled up near his feet, their little faces pale and worried, drifting in and out of restless sleep. Even in their dreams they were tense, their bodies twitching whenever Oscar stirred.


    I leaned over, brushing a damp strand of red hair from his forehead. His skin was mmy under my touch. I kissed him there, whispering against his skin, "Please, baby... please don’t leave me. Mama can’t bear it."


    The healer’s words kept circling in my head. Lunar Respiris. A rare sickness. She said it wasn’t fatal, that he’d wake soon, but how was I supposed to rest easy while my sony so still? Words couldn’t loosen the fear crushing my chest.


    The healer and Frederick sat beside me... we all waited for Oscar to wake up.


    I bowed my head over Oscar’s hand, clutching it to my lips. "If anything happens to you, I won’t survive it," I whispered, my voice raw. "You and your brothers are my life. I’m nothing without you."


    Then—softly, faintly—he whimpered.


    The sound was so small I almost thought I imagined it. But when I looked down, hisshes fluttered, just barely.


    My heart lurched. "Oscar?" My voice shook as I leaned closer, my tears starting all over again. "Baby, it’s Mama. Can you hear me?"


    His lips parted, a weak breath escaping, but he didn’t speak. Hisshes fluttered, heavy and slow, before finally lifting. The green of his eyes peeked out, faint but clear, like embers fighting to glow. My whole chest broke apart with relief.


    "There you are," I breathed, sobbing as I pressed kisses to his damp forehead, his cheeks, anywhere I could reach. "Moon above, there you are. You scared me, baby. You scared me so much."


    "Mama..." His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but the sound of it filled the room like music. His small hand tried to curl around my finger. "I’m... tired."


    Frederick leaned forward, his voice authoritative but soft. "Don’t force yourself, Oscar. Rest. You’ll be strong again soon."


    The healer nodded, cing her glowing hand gently against his chest. "He’s waking properly now. The worst has passed. His strength will return, but he’ll need care—rest, food, and medicine to steady his breathing."


    Oliver stirred at the foot of the bed, blinking blearily. When he saw Oscar’s eyes open, he sat upright so fast it startled me. "Oscar!" His little voice cracked. He scrambled closer, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Don’t scare us like that again!"


    Ozzy was slower, calmer, but his brown eyes shimmered with tears too. He reached out, stroking his brother’s arm gently. "We thought you wouldn’t wake up."


    Oscar’s gaze moved to them, weak but warm. A tiny smile curved on his pale lips. "I’m here," he murmured, his voice barely there. "I’m not leaving you."


    I broke downpletely then, gathering him carefully into my arms. His body was weak, too light in my hold, but he was warm. He was alive.


    "My brave boy," I whispered against his hair, rocking him gently. "You’ll be okay. Mama promises. You’ll be okay."


    I pulled away and he shed me a weak smile. "I’m fine, Mama... stop crying," he whispered.


    I nodded quickly, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my palm, even though more kept slipping free. "Alright, baby," I whispered back, kissing his hair again. "Alright."


    It took a while, but finally his breathing steadied. Oliver curled up against his side protectively, his small hand gripping Oscar’s nket like he could anchor him there. Ozzy shifted closer too, pressing his forehead gently against Oscar’s arm before drifting back to sleep.


    I tucked all three of them in, pulling the nket high, smoothing it over their little shoulders. I kissed each one again—once, twice, three times—before sitting back in the chair. I couldn’t leave. Not tonight. Not with the fear of something going wrong.


    The healer packed her things quietly, giving me a reassuring smile before leaving.


    Frederick didn’t leave either. He stayed on the other side of the bed, his tall frame half-shadowed by themplight. He didn’t speak, didn’t move much. Just sat there, watching them, watching me.


    For a long time, the only sounds were the soft breaths of my sons.


    At one point, my eyes lifted. His eyes were already on me.


    Something inside me stuttered, because the memory came back in a rush—the way his hands had held me earlier, the heat of his mouth on mine, the feeling of his mouth on my nipples. We had been seconds away from crossing a line we could never step back from.


    And if Oscar hadn’t fainted...


    My stomach tightened. I should have felt only guilt, only shame. And I did. But somewhere, buried deep, was another truth I couldn’t say aloud: part of me was grateful for the interruption. Relieved.


    Because I wasn’t ready. Maybe I would never be.


    I tore my gaze away, fixing it back on the steady rise and fall of my boys’ chests. Still, my skin burned under the weight of his eyes, my mind spinning with questions.


    What is he thinking right now? Does he wish we hadn’t been stopped?


    I didn’t know. And I wasn’t brave enough to ask.


    So I stayed silent. And so did he.


    But the air between us was heavy with all the words we didn’t dare say.


    I exhaled slowly, my voice low, almost to myself. "I’m thirsty..." The words slipped out before I could stop them. I pushed back from the chair, my knees stiff, my body heavy with exhaustion. "I’ll just... get some water."


    Frederick didn’t stop me, didn’t speak. But I could feel his eyes following me as I slipped from the room, pulling the door closed gently behind me so the boys wouldn’t wake up.


    The hallway was dark, lit only by a dim light left on. My footsteps were soft against the floorboards as I made my way to the kitchen. The air was cool, almost biting against my damp cheeks.


    I found a ss, filled it at the pump, and lifted it to my lips. The water was cold, sharp. I closed my eyes as I drank, trying to wash down the tight knot of emotions that wouldn’t leave my chest.


    When I lowered the ss, I froze.


    At the doorway stood Frederick.


    His broad frame leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely, his robe hanging open just enough to reveal the hard lines of his chest. His eyes were on me—steady, unreadable, but dark in the dim light.


    For a moment, neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke.


    I blinked at him, caught like a rabbit in the hunter’s snare. His eyes didn’t waver from me, not once, and before I could even ask why he was standing there, he moved.


    In two strides, he was in front of me. Then his hands were on me as he lifted me like I weighed nothing. A gasp slipped from my lips as he set me down on the counter, his frame towering over mine.


    "Frederick—" My voice came out shaky, unsure. "What are you doing?"


    His answer wasn’t words. His lips pressed to the side of my neck, cool at first, then hot as his mouth opened, kissing lower. My breath hitched.


    His voice came rough, muffled against my skin. "We should finish what we started."


    Panic fluttered in my chest. I grabbed his wrist weakly. "The boys... they’ll wake up." The excuse tumbled out fast, my chest tight.


    "They’re asleep," he murmured, his hand sliding up, tugging at the hem of my nightgown. "You don’t need to worry."


    The fabric lifted slowly, exposing my thighs to the cool air. His mouth kept working at my neck, at the hollow of my corbone. My fingers trembled against his shoulders as I tried—tried—to let myself feel it. To let myself believe I wanted this.


    But the truth pressed hard against my ribs. It wasn’t there. Not the way I needed it to be.


    My eyes shut tight, and a whisper slipped out before I could stop it. "Stop."


    He didn’t hear me. Or maybe he did and chose not to. His lips moved hungrily, his hand pushing higher.


    Fear surged sharply through my chest. My voice rose, firmer, desperate. "Stop!"


    I shoved at him, hard enough this time to make him stumble back a step. My nightgown fell back into ce as I slid off the counter, my heart hammering.


    Frederick froze, his chest rising and falling, his hands curled into fists at his sides. His eyes locked on mine, dark, unreadable.