ARIA
I couldn't breathe in that room anymore.
The beeping of the monitor was counting down my dad's life. The smell of antiseptic couldn't cover the scent of sickness. It was all too much. I had to get out, just for a minute. Just to feel cold air on my face and remember what the world felt like outside these walls.
I told Dad I'd be right back, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He was sleeping, his breathing a little easier. For a second, I let myself pretend that was a good sign.
In the hallway after my walk outside, I leaned against the cool wall, closing my eyes. I took deep, shaky breaths, trying to push down the scream that had been building in my chest for days. I got a cup of water from the dispenser, my hands trembling so badly I spilled half of it.
Just get through the next hour, I told myself. Then the next. One piece at a time.
My head was a blur fragments of memory crashing into one another. Dad teaching me to ride a bike. His laugh echoing through our tiny apartment. The way he'd hum while cooking eggs, off-key and cheerful. And now, him lying in that bed, pale and silent.
I bit down hard on my lip. The taste of metal hit my tongue.
And then, because my mind never knows when to quit, it wandered to him.
Mr. Gray. Dalton freaking Gray.
Maybe I just need something to distract me from the loss I'm already feeling.
Or maybe I'm sick..In the head and i need help
The man who seemed to think the world existed to test his patience. The devil who treated me like I was a stain on his perfect day every time he walked into the coffee shop.
I almost laughed at the thought. Pathetic, really. Here I was, on the edge of losing the only person I had left, and my brain decided to think about the one man who could ruin my mood just by breathing near me.
I turned and walked back to my dad's room my feet heavy. I pushed the door open softly, not wanting to wake him if he was still sleeping.
And then I froze.
My dad was awake. And he wasn't alone.
Sitting in the chair I had just been in, the one with the squeaky plastic, was a man. A man in a suit that probably cost more than my car. A man with broad shoulders and dark hair.
Dalton Gray.
What. The. Hell.
"You've got to be kidding me," I blurted, my voice sharp with disbelief.
Both of them turned. My dad's eyes, clouded with pain, somehow softened when he saw me. "There you are, sweetheart."
But I wasn't looking at him. I was staring a hole into the back of Dalton Gray's perfectly styled head. He stood up slowly, turning to face me with that infuriatingly unreadable expression.
"You?" I said, the word dripping with venom. "What are you doing here?"
"Aria," he said, my name a flat statement on his lips. No apology. No explanation.
I folded my arms, my heart hammering against my ribs. "How do you even know where we are? Did you follow me?"
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I came to see John."
"See him? Why?" I shot back, my voice rising. "To make sure he's brewing your coffee right in the afterlife?"
Before he could answer, my dad made a weak, rattling sound that was supposed to be a laugh. "You two… know each other?"
"Unfortunately," I muttered, not breaking eye contact with the iceberg in my father's hospital room.
A ghost of something amusement? flickered in Dalton's cold eyes. "She makes my coffee."
My dad blinked, and then a real, genuine smile touched his lips. It was the first one I'd seen in weeks. "You must be the rude customer she is always complaining about."
"Yeah," I said, my glare still fixed on Dalton. "And apparently, this one thinks his wealth is a free pass to barge into hospital rooms."
My dad's hand, frail and thin, twitched on the blanket. "Aria… he's not a stranger."
I frowned, completely lost. "What are you talking about?"
Dalton's posture didn't change, but the air around him did. The coldness remained, but it was now layered with a stiff, formal respect. "It's been a long time, John."
I looked back and forth between them, my anger mixing with pure confusion. "Wait. You know him? You know him?"
"Of course I do," my dad said, his voice gaining a sliver of strength. "I used to drive for his family. The Grays. He's the boy I told you about. Dalton."
The name 'Gray' finally clicked into place, a terrible, obvious puzzle piece I'd been missing. Of course. The cold, powerful family my dad had worked for. The one he never liked, except for one boy.
The boy.
Definitely not a boy anymore.
I stared at Dalton, truly seeing him for the first time. Not just as my rude customer, but as the lonely, quiet child from my dad's stories. The one he'd worried about. The one he'd snuck treats to.
"You're that Dalton?" The question came out as a whisper.
He gave a single, curt nod. "I am."
A hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat. "You've got to be kidding me."
My dad watched us, a trace of his old humor in his eyes. "I told you about him. The quiet one."
I remembered. I'd pictured a sad little boy. Not this… this fortress of a man.
My shock curdled back into anger. "So what is this? A trip down memory lane? A rich man's pity visit? Still doesn'texplainwhat you are doing here."
Dalton's gaze sliced to me, the brief hint of softness for my father gone. "No," he said, his voice like chipped ice. "It's not."
"Then why?" I demanded, stepping closer. "Why now, after all these years? You didn't even know he was sick!"
"I do now," he stated, as if that explained everything.
I wanted to scream. But my dad squeezed my hand, his grip frighteningly weak. "Sweetheart," he whispered. "Don't. He's here. That's enough."
The fight drained out of me, replaced by a wave of crushing fatigue. I sank into the empty chair beside the bed, the plastic groaning under my weight.
Dad's breathing was becoming more labored again. He looked at me, his love a tangible force in the sterile room. "You know," he murmured, "I always wondered if you two would meet. You'd have liked him back then."
I glanced at Dalton, who stood with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, a general at a peace treaty he didn't want to be at. "Doubt it," I muttered under my breath.
A faint smile touched my dad's lips. "You will."
He turned his head slowly back to Dalton. "You've done well for yourself, son. I'm proud of you."
Dalton's expression didn't warm, but it grew still, almost solemn. "You're the one who taught me how to parallel park a twelve-foot-long car without hitting the curb."
My dad let out a weak, genuine chuckle. "You had the patience of a raging bull. I bet you still do."
The corner of Dalton's mouth twitched. It wasn't a smile. It was a barely-perceptible acknowledgment. "Something like that."
It was the strangest thing I'd ever seen. This man, who could silence a room with a look, was being… respectful. But he wasn't soft. His cold control was still there, a suit of armor he never took off. He was just directing a different part of it at my father.
As my dad's eyes fluttered closed, the panic returned, clawing at my throat. The monitor's steady beep was a cruel reminder that time was slipping away.
"Dad," I whispered, leaning forward to brush a stray hair from his forehead. "You should rest."
He nodded faintly, his hand still clinging to mine. "You two… try not to fight."
I let out a wet, shaky laugh, wiping a tear from my cheek. "We can't make promises we can't keep."
Dalton said nothing. He just watched my father, his face a mask of impenetrable stone. But in the rigid set of his shoulders, I saw it not guilt, but a cold, relentless sense of duty.
As my dad drifted into an uneasy sleep, the room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the machines.
I turned to Dalton, the man who was both a stranger and a ghost from my past. My voice was low, stripped bare. "Why are you really here?"
He met my gaze, his blue eyes devoid of warmth, but sharp with purpose. "Because your father is a man worth honoring," he said, his tone as crisp and transactional as a business proposal. "And I settle my debts."
Before I could process what that meant, my dad stirred, his weak fingers tightening around mine, and the relentless beeping of the monitor filled the space between Dalton Gray and me, a ticking clock on a promise I didn't understand.