Chapter 3 THE GHOST IN THE PHOTO

MAYA'S POV

The silence after deleting Daniel's voicemail is a clean slate. A terrible, empty one. I walk back to Leo's room wearing Liam's jacket like armor.

He's right where I left him, a steadfast silhouette in the terrible chair. He looks up. "You okay?"

"Define okay," I say, but my voice is lighter. Having one person who simply shows up rewires your nervous system.

Dr. Vance, our main doctor, comes in smiling. "It's time. We'll start bringing him back to us." The process is slow, a careful dial-turn of consciousness. Leo's tiny fingers twitch. My world narrows to the space between his eyelashes.

Daniel arrives halfway through. He walks in with the hesitant air of a tourist. He's clean, shaved, wearing a crisp shirt. He looks at Liam, and his polite mask slips for a second into pure, unguarded annoyance.

"Liam. I didn't know you were in town."

"I am now," Liam says, not looking away from Leo. His voice is neutral, but his posture-leaning forward, elbows on knees, a fortress around the bed-speaks volumes.

Daniel hovers near the door. "You should go get some rest. I'm here now."

"I'm good," Liam says. "Might be good for Leo to hear a few familiar voices when he wakes up." The implication-that Daniel's voice might not qualify-hangs in the sterile air.

Daniel's jaw tightens. He pulls his phone out, checking it, a shield against the scene of his brother seamlessly filling his role.

An hour ticks by. Leo's vitals are strong. The doctor is optimistic. The tension in the room is a third presence, thick and sour. Daniel's phone buzzes constantly. He steps out into the hall each time, murmuring. Each time he returns, he looks more agitated.

"Everything all right?" I ask once, my tone flat.

"Work," he says, but his eyes dart away. "And Clara's just... worried. About Leo. Wants updates."

"How thoughtful," I say. Liam coughs, a sound suspiciously like a swallowed laugh.

Daniel glares at him. The sibling rivalry, dormant for years, crackles to life in this awful room. Daniel isn't just uncomfortable with Liam's presence; he's threatened by it. Liam's quiet competence is a mirror showing Daniel his own reflection, and he doesn't like what he sees.

Later, Daniel's phone buzzes again with a video call request. He rejects it, frustrated. A second later, a flood of pictures pings through.

"For God's sake," he mutters, but he's looking at them. A small, fond smile touches his lips. A smile I haven't seen directed at Leo in months.

Then his face pales. He fumbles, trying to turn the screen away, but it's too late. He's standing at the foot of the bed, and the angle is perfect.

I see.

A series of pictures. Lily at a park. Lily with a ice cream smile. Lily making a silly, cross-eyed face.

The last one is a side-by-side photo Clara has sent. On the left, a scanned, faded school picture of a young boy with gapped teeth and a mischievous grin. On the right, Lily, making the same exact grin.

The boy is Daniel. Seven years old. I've seen that photo in his mother's album a hundred times.

The similarity isn't just striking. It's identical. The same unique, lopsided dimple. The same crinkle at the corner of the eyes. It's not a resemblance you note; it's a resemblance that stares. A carbon copy, in pigtails.

My breath leaves my body in a slow, soundless rush. The pieces don't just fall together; they detonate.

Lily's age. Five. Just old enough...

Clara's sudden reappearance.

Daniel's immediate,all-consuming "support."

The forgotten birthday.The misplaced loyalty. The emergency that wasn't ours.

He wasn't just rekindling an old flame. He was tending to his own garden. He has a daughter. He has another family.

The realization isn't a knife to the heart. It's a anesthesia. A cold, clarifying numbness that spreads to my fingertips. I look from the ghost of Daniel in the photo on his screen to the living man, now guilty and frozen, to my own son fighting his way back to a world that has fundamentally shifted.

Liam sees my face. He follows my gaze to Daniel's phone, now clutched face-down against his leg. Liam's eyes narrow. He's always been quick. He looks from Daniel's panicked expression to my hollow one, and understanding dawns on his face, followed by a fury so hot it seems to vibrate the air around him.

Daniel finally finds his voice. "Maya, it's... it's just a funny picture Clara found. It doesn't mean..."

"What's her blood type, Daniel?" My voice is distant, calm.

"What?"

"Lily. What's her blood type?"

He pales further. He knows. A good father would know. "I... why does that matter?"

"Is it A-positive? Like you? Like your brother?"

He is silent. The confession is in the silence.

Leo picks that moment to stir. His eyelids flutter, then open. He's groggy, disoriented. His glassy eyes scan the room, past his father hovering like a guilty ghost, past his uncle who is a statue of rage. They land on me.

"Mommy?"

The word is a rasp, but it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. I'm at his side in an instant, my hand cradling his cheek. "I'm here, my love. I'm right here."

He tries to smile. His gaze shifts slightly, to the foot of the bed. "Daddy?"

Daniel lurches forward, eager for the redemption only a sick child can give. "I'm here, Leo. Daddy's here."

But Leo's eyes are already closing again, the effort too much. He whispers one more word, a sigh into the pillow. "Liam...?"

It's a question. A soft, confused murmur. He heard his uncle's voice in the dark.

Liam's fierce expression shatters. He steps closer, his hand brushing Leo's foot over the blanket. "Right here, champ. Sleeping is good. Just rest."

Daniel stands frozen, rejected by his son's first conscious breath. Upstaged by his brother. Unmasked by his wife.

I look at him over our son's bed. The man who divided his heart, his loyalty, his fatherhood. The man who gave another woman a daughter and let his own son feel unloved.

"Get out," I say, the words quiet and final.

"Maya, please, let me explain-"

"Get. Out. Or I will tell every nurse, every doctor, and the hospital security that you are a disturbance to my son's recovery. And then I will call your mother and explain exactly why."

The threat lands. The shame is too great. He leaves, his shoulders slumped, the secret finally too heavy to carry in here with us.

The door clicks shut. The room is quiet, save for Leo's steadying breaths. Liam sinks back into his chair, running a trembling hand through his hair. He looks at me, his eyes full of a pained empathy.

"Maya, I... I didn't know. I swear."

"I know," I say. And I do. The only person who truly didn't know was me. And maybe, in his own cowardly way, Daniel thought he could keep it that way forever.

I look at my son, his chest rising and falling with strong, even breaths. I look at Liam, the brother who stayed. The ground is gone, but I am not falling. I am standing on new, unshakable stone: the truth.

And the truth is, my family is right here in this room. Everyone else is just noise.