By the time we entered the house, it was already late—close to 11:30 p.m. My body felt heavy, my shoulders aching from the stress of the night, but my mind refused to rest. I had brought Kyra to the hospital around 9:00, and the whole subdivision was already silent by then. That’s usually the time when the lights dim and families retreat to their bedrooms, the streets turning quiet as if the world itself had fallen asleep. But for me, everything had been chaos since that moment—blood on my hands, the sound of my own panicked breathing, the sterile rush of doctors, the cold metallic scent of antiseptic mixed with fear.
The operation took almost two hours. Two hours of waiting in the hospital corridors, staring blankly at the floor tiles while imagining every possible outcome, every what-if that could shatter me. In those hours, I also witnessed something else—a miracle of sorts. Around 9:30, thay man the Attorney had managed to call Kyra’s family, and despite the distance, they arrived within an hour from the West. One hour. That was impossibly fast unless they had a private arrangement, some fast lane access, or perhaps even pulled strings no ordinary family could. Whatever the case, they had moved mountains to get to her. That alone spoke volumes about how much Kyra was loved.
It also made me realize something—Kyra had already opened up to them about me.
The way they looked at me wasn’t filled with suspicion or curiosity but rather a quiet recognition, as though they already knew my face, my name, or at least the version of me that Kyra had painted for them. And the kids—oh, the kids were the most telling of all. Their eyes lit up each time they glanced my way, like they were piecing together a puzzle they’d already been given the edges to.
“Ahaa…” the little boy finally blurted out, his grin too wide to contain. “The actress, Herra! The one we stalked in Nana’s phone. Introduced by Aunt Bash to us—the new Aunt Beauty!”
The title hung in the air like a playful arrow shot right into my chest.
“Are you the new Aunt Beauty?” Herra, the girl, asked with surprising authority, her little chin tilted upward as though she were already the family’s judge and jury. Then she showed me her approval with thumbs up
I found myself kneeling to their level, drawn in by their candor. Children had a way of disarming even the toughest masks adults wore.
“I don’t know who your new Aunt Beauty is,” I replied softly, managing a smile despite the exhaustion pulling at my face. “But for now, let’s leave that for tomorrow, okay? Tonight, you need rest. I need to fix myself too. If I really am Aunt Beauty, then it wouldn’t be a good impression for you to see me like this—messy, tired, and not at my best.”
Herra blinked, processing my words with all the seriousness of a miniature adult. Before she could reply, the boy piped up again, tugging at Nana’s skirt.
“Nana, can we borrow your phone, please?”
“Later, kids,” Nana answered firmly, her eyes kind but commanding. “Listen to her, or else I’ll tell your Aunt Bash about the trouble you just caused.”
At that, both children zipped their lips, miming the action with exaggerated expressions. I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath.
Inside the house, Mom was already there, waiting to greet our unexpected guests. Levi, ever dependable, helped them carry their hsnd carry bag into the guest room on the first floor. I caught the faint look of worry in my mother’s eyes when she glanced at me—she had always been quick to sense when something was weighing on me—but she composed herself with grace, turning her attention to Kyra’s family.
“Mom, this is Kyra’s family,” I explained, my voice calmer now. “They flew in immediately after hearing what happened to her. Booking a hotel room this late would have taken time, so I offered for them to stay here instead.”
My mother stepped forward with her usual warmth, the kind that made people feel at home instantly. “Good evening. I’m Laine, Luna’s mother. Please, feel free to stay here as long as you need. Kyra has been such a help to us since she moved here. Allowing you to stay is the least we can do to return the favor she’s done for Luna—and for us.”
“Thank you so much,” their matriarch replied, her relief evident. “And thank you for helping Kyra, for sending her to the hospital. I know if it weren’t for you, she would have insisted on waiting for her trusted medical personnel nearby, even if it meant enduring the pain.”
I exhaled, remembering how stubborn Kyra had been even as her body trembled in agony. “She did refuse at first,” I admitted, shaking my head. “But I ignored her protests. Maybe you’re right—she really is a hard-headed woman.”
A fond smile tugged at the woman’s lips. “Yes, I’ve been with her since she and her brother were little. Stubbornness runs in their blood. You can’t imagine how many times I had to scold them both.”
The room softened with shared laughter. For a brief moment, the heaviness of the night lifted, and I could almost pretend everything was normal.
“For now, you should rest,” Mom said gently. “Would the three of you be alright in one room, or should we separate the children?”
“No need,” the woman replied quickly. “The kids can’t sleep in a different house without me or Kyra.”
“Alright then,” Mom nodded. “This room has its own bathroom, so you can freshen up. How about dinner? Have you eaten?”
“We already had dinner on the plane, and the children ate too.”
“Good. Then we’ll leave you to rest,” Mom said, stepping back.
“Feel free to use anything in this house if you need it,” I added, meaning every word.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely, before turning to the children. “Now, what do you say?”
The kids straightened at once, bowing their heads in unison. “Thank you, New Aunt Beauty!” they chimed, their voices echoing together like rehearsed lines.
I laughed, warmth spreading through me despite the strangeness of the title. “You’re welcome. Good night.”
We left them to settle in the guest room, while Mom and I retreated to our own. My body screamed for rest, but first, I needed to cleanse the remnants of the night. The bathroom tiles were cold under my feet as I undressed, and the sight of the dried blood on my clothes—Kyra’s blood—hit me all over again. I scrubbed my skin until it was pink, until the phantom smell of iron faded from my senses.
By the time I emerged, the clock had crawled past midnight. Mom was already in bed, but before she went to her bed she said that she would take care of my schedule for the next few days. She knew better than anyone that I needed rest and space, especially after finishing the music video shoot.
“You should consider a short hiatus,” she said “Take a break before signing your next deal.” she added before going to her room
I nodded, though my mind was far away. A hiatus sounded tempting, but the real storm wasn’t in my career—it was in my heart.
When I finally sank into my soft bed, exhaustion swept through me like a tide, but my mind refused to quiet down. Thoughts crashed in waves, relentless and unkind. The kids’ faces replayed in my head, their innocent declaration—“New Aunt Beauty”—echoing again and again. They knew me. They recognized me. Which meant Kyra had told them about me. Not just as a passing mention, but with enough pride that they could connect me with a title, a place in their family narrative.
And there it was—the dagger of guilt twisting in my chest.
All this time, I believed Kyra didn’t want us to be public. I thought she was protecting my image—or perhaps she was still unsure about me. She often said not to rush, that the right moment would come and reveal us naturally. But in my weakness, I let insecurity take root, especially after we crossed paths with that woman, June. Jealousy consumed me, and I convinced myself that in Kyra’s world, I was nothing more than invisible.
But tonight proved me wrong.
In her world, I was someone cherished. Someone she had introduced proudly, even to the little ones who mattered most to her. While I was busy hiding us, doubting us, she was building bridges with her family, planting me firmly in her life.
The guilt was unbearable. I hadn’t even spoken to her before the accident. I had let silence fester between us, thinking it was safer not to confront my doubts. And now, as she lay in recovery, all I could think about was how blind I had been.
It wasn’t just guilt—it was love, raw and aching, reminding me of all the ways she had always seen me, always chosen me.
My eyes burned, but I forced them shut, hoping sleep would dull the ache. The last thought that lingered before darkness pulled me under was simple yet heavy:
In my world, we were hidden. But in hers, I had always been the one she claimed.
And that realization broke me, even as it made me fall for her all over again.