“Are you ready for today?”

“Yes, Mom!” Liam answered, chuckling sweetly.

It was another check-up day for my son and as usual my heart bleeds every single time we're in the clinic. Dr. Beltran wanted to monitor his breathing patterns again after last month’s mild asthma flare-up. I had called the school ahead—his absence was excused.

The pediatric ward was unusually quiet when we arrived. A soft hush blanketed the hallways, interrupted only by the muted squeak of nurses’ shoes and the distant beep of machines. The fluorescent lights overhead cast sterile halos along the tiled floor, and the smell of antiseptic clung to the air.

“Liam Josef Hatton,” the nurse called, smiling warmly. “Dr. Beltran will see you now.”

“Will you be okay without me inside?” I asked, smoothing the collar of his jacket.

“Yeah. See you in a bit, Mom.” He nodded confidently and kissed my cheek before heading into the consultation room.

The moment the door shut, a quiet ache pulsed in my chest. I knew it was routine—nothing to panic over. But lately, my fears have grown less about medicine and more about lawyers. Zach’s petition for full custody had arrived like a bombshell wrapped in civility. Every word in that document chipped away at the life I had fought to keep whole.

The thought of losing Liam… of handing him over to someone who had ripped our family apart? It made my blood run cold.

I turned to pace the hallway, trying to settle my nerves—when I saw her.

Celine.

She was striding toward me like she owned the damn place. That same flawless face, hair swept back into a sleek low bun, makeup pristine. A designer coat hugged her frame, and in her arms, an expensive purse I bet Zach bought for her. She smiled like this was brunch, not a confrontation.

“Hello, former Mrs. Hatton,” she jeered, giving me a once-over glance.

I stopped mid-step. “What are you doing here?”

Her heels clicked softly as she slowed. “I heard Liam had a check-up.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you stalking us now?”

She rolled her eyes with a slight chuckle. “Don’t be dramatic, Arianne. I just came to talk. Woman to woman.”

I should have walked away. Should have told her to stay out of my sight. But I didn’t. Maybe because the fire inside me wanted a closer look at the woman Zach had risked it all for.

I walked past her. “Fine. Five minutes. That’s all you get.”

We ended up at the hospital coffee shop, tucked in a quiet corner booth. Celine sat across from me, perfectly poised. “You look tired,” she said, stirring her tea.

“I am tired,” I replied, not bothering with fake smiles. “Because I’m raising my son while cleaning up after your affair.”

Her expression didn’t falter. “You should stop looking at me like I’m the villain. Zach made a choice. I didn’t force him.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “You seduced a married man and now you’re surprised he left?”

She smiled again, slower this time. “He didn’t just leave, Arianne. He left for me. He told me things he couldn’t say to you. That he was suffocating. That he wanted someone who truly saw him.”

I clenched my jaw, blinking away the sting behind my eyes. “Don’t sit here and pretend your relationship was built on anything but betrayal.”

“Call it what you want.” She shrugged, then slid the folder onto the table and flipped it open. “But it doesn’t change the facts. Zach filed for primary custody. He wants Liam to live with us.”

Us.

That word sliced deeper than it should have. “He is my son,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t get to take him and play house.”

She didn’t blink. “He’s our son now. At least, he will be.”

I frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

Celine pulled something from her folder. A small photograph. She placed it in front of me. I bit my inner cheek, holding back my tears.

“I’m twelve weeks,” she said, her tone light, almost smug. “A little surprise. Zach is over the moon.”

My breath hitched. I didn’t want to look, but I did. A blurry little bean floating in a sea of static glossy paper. My hands trembled slightly as I pushed it back toward her.

“You’re delusional if you think this baby gives you a claim over Liam.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “It’s not about claiming him. It’s about building a family. Zach wants us to raise them together. Liam deserves stability. And frankly—he deserves better than watching his mother spiral every time I’m in the room.”

I stood abruptly, the chair scraping the floor. “You think I’m spiraling? I am fighting for my son. For everything you destroyed!”

Celine stood too, unbothered. “Just don’t be surprised when the court agrees with us. A happy home, two siblings, and two unified parents. That’s what judges like to see.”

She gathered her coat and folder, then offered one last, venom-laced smile. “You can keep hating me, Arianne. But soon… Liam won’t be calling you for goodnight kisses. He’ll be calling me Mommy, too.”

I stood up, slowly and deliberately. Celine remained seated, her smile fixed like stone.

“Congratulations,” I said, my voice calm but cold. “I hope you enjoy what you stole.”

She blinked, surprised by the restraint.

“But remember this,” I added, leaning slightly toward her. “A love built in a lie cannot survive. Trust me, he’ll eventually dismantle you. And no, you cannot take my son away from me!”

I didn’t go back to the waiting area right away. My legs took me outside the hospital building, where the sun blazed like it had no idea my world was falling apart. The heat did nothing to chase away the chill inside my chest.

Celine’s words rang in my ears like cruel lullabies: “He’ll be calling me Mommy, too.”

The audacity. The cruelty. The threat. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, steadying myself before heading back up to the pediatric wing. I had to be strong. For Liam. For the only reason I was still breathing after everything Zach had done.

When I reached the hallway outside Dr. Beltran’s office, the door was already open. Liam was sitting on the cushioned bench, swinging his legs, humming to himself like nothing was wrong in the world.

“Hey, love,” I said softly, kissing his forehead.

He grinned. “Done already. Dr. B said my lungs sound better!”

I knelt in front of him, cupping his face. “That’s amazing. I’m proud of you.”

He smiled wider. “Can we get ice cream before we go home?”

I laughed, brushing his hair back. “Only if you promise not to tell Dr. B.”

“Promise!”

We walked hand in hand toward the parking lot. I could feel the tension loosening from my shoulders just being near him. But peace, I would learn, never stayed long.

We had just reached the pedestrian lane across the main driveway when I heard the screech of tires. A flash of silver. A scream—not mine, someone else's—and then chaos.

It all happened too fast.

One second Liam was next to me. The next, he was thrown like a ragdoll.

“LIAM!”

My knees hit the asphalt before I even realized I was down. People shouted. A nurse was screaming. A car had slammed into the hospital signpost, smoke curling from its hood. Time blurred, slowed. I crawled to him, my palms scraping across the concrete.

He was still breathing.

His tiny chest moved. Blood streaked his temple, a gash splitting his eyebrow. One of his shoes had flown off. His arm bent at an angle it shouldn’t.

“Call an ambulance!” I shrieked, though we were already at a hospital. “Please, somebody help—my son—!”

Doctors and nurses rushed out, someone pulled me back as they hoisted Liam onto a stretcher.

“I’m his mother!” I screamed, trying to follow. “Let me in, I need to—he needs me!”

But a firm hand held me back.

And that’s when I saw him.

Zach.

On the far end of the sidewalk. Rushing in. His eyes wide, his suit half-wrung, like he had just dropped everything to get here.

“What happened?” he barked at the nurse. “Is that my son?!”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

It was Celine who appeared beside him—calm, cold, timed. She placed a hand on Zach’s arm, pulling him back with measured grace.

“How did you know it was coming?” I whispered, my voice shaking.

Celine tilted her head, eyes glinting like glass. “You think we’d let you keep walking him into danger?”

“What…?”

But she was already turning away. Later, in the waiting room, drenched in sweat and dried tears, a social worker came. She looked apologetic, but firm.

“Ms. Arianne Hatton, there’s concern about your ability to ensure Liam’s safety. Given the severity of the incident, and the pending custody petition, the court has ruled for a temporary emergency transfer.”

“What do you mean?” My throat dried up. “My son is going home with me.”

The social worker shook her head slowly. “No, ma’am. For now, Liam will be released into the custody of his father.”

“No, no, you can’t—this was an accident! I was with him! I was holding his hand!”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft. “But there are questions about supervision. About judgment. There was a claim made… that you were distracted, arguing outside the hospital. That you stormed off.”

My eyes widened. “That’s not true! Let me see my son,” I begged, voice cracking. “Please—just let me say goodbye.”

“Get lost, Arianne!” Celine muttered, walking past me with a venomous smile plastered on her lips.

The next day, I packed in silence. Every fold of clothing, every zip of the suitcase felt heavier than it should. I didn’t cry. I’d cried enough. Losing Liam’s custody left a hollow in my chest that no amount of tears could fill.

I slipped his drawing into my passport—a stick-figure version of us under a crooked sun. It was the only piece of him I could take.

At the airport, I kept my head down. The crowds blurred around me. I was just another woman flying away from something she couldn’t fix.

At the gate, I turned on my phone one last time.

Five missed calls. Three texts.

Zach: Where are you?

Zach: Let’s talk, Arianne.

Zach: Don’t do anything stupid.

I stared at the screen for a second then calmly blocked his number. And as the plane took off, I pulled the SIM out of my phone and broke it into pieces.

"Goodbye, Zachary..."