"Your baby is in good health, Mr. Rayder," the female doctor said gently. "What he needs now is breast milk for the next few months. Unfortunately, he's been refusing both formula and the donor milk provided by the hospital."
Revan stood silently in front of the nursery's glass wall. Her words echoed in his mind like a quiet bell. And in an instant, his thoughts flew to Leana—and what she had done not long ago.
"Your baby needs breast milk, Mr. Rayder," the doctor repeated. "Once he begins feeding properly, you'll be allowed to take him home."
Revan took a deep breath. He was exhausted. Tired of the sterile hospital smell lingering in every hallway. Tired of the cold floors and white walls. It had been a week since his wife passed away, and he hadn't left the hospital since. All for his son.
"If I find her… will he feed from her again?" he asked cautiously, as if confirming a thought that had haunted him for days.
"If the baby's willing… and they're compatible."
"Alright." Revan turned on his heels, walking away with a quiet but resolute determination.
He made his way to another ward, not far from the nursery. Without knocking, he pushed the door open.
Leana, who was in the middle of helping a patient undress, jumped in surprise.
"I need to talk to you," Revan said firmly.
"About what?" Leana blinked, still startled by his sudden entrance.
"Please… become a wet nurse for my child."
Silence fell between them like thunder.
Leana blinked rapidly, trying to grasp what she had just heard. "What do you mean? Your child? Who?"
"The baby you nursed earlier today… he's mine."
Her body went cold. She stared at him, frozen.
"No. That's not possible," she whispered. But the realization dawned on her slowly, painfully.
"Maria…" she breathed. "The baby's mother… is it Maria?"
Revan didn't answer.
But his silence screamed louder than any confirmation.
Leana's tears fell before she could stop them. "No. It can't be. Maria? How could it be her?"
Ten years of silence and distance collapsed into one unbearable moment.
Maria… her best friend. Her dearest, closest friend—now gone.
She turned to Revan, her eyes searching for answers that didn't come.
"I'll explain everything at home. But right now, Leana, I need your help," Revan said at last.
Only then did she truly see the man in front of her—disheveled, pale, sunken-eyed, carrying a grief so heavy it showed in every line of his face.
But her heart was no stranger to pain either. Could she truly return to the life she left behind? Could she stand beside the man she once walked away from… just because fate demanded it?
After a long silence, she finally said, "Okay."
Relief broke across Revan's face like sunlight after a storm. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Thank you, Leana."
But she didn't do it for him.
The ache in her chest—the pain of milk going unused—was unbearable. It would be a waste not to give it to a child who needed it.
Even if that child was Maria's.
Even if that child was Revan's.
As soon as the doctors confirmed that the baby was feeding well with Leana's milk, they gave the green light.
"You may go home tomorrow morning."
Revan watched her from across the room. Watched how the baby calmed in her arms, how she held him like her own.
***
The house was large. Modern. Quiet in the kind of way only grief can be.
Leana stepped out of the car, holding the sleeping infant in her arms.
"Come in. You'll be staying here for now," Revan said.
"Here?" she echoed.
"Let's get him to bed first," he replied, motioning to the child.
Without a word, Leana entered. But questions swirled inside her like smoke.
Inside, the house welcomed her with warmth and elegance. Every corner breathed Maria—from the décor, to the color palette, to the peaceful silence. This had been her friend's home. And now, Maria was nothing but memory.
"That's his room," Revan said, pointing to a door near the stairs. "I'll be in the kitchen."
Leana stepped into the nursery. A room filled with soft pastels and painted stars. A room made with love.
A sad smile curved her lips. Once, she had decorated a nursery too.
But no baby ever slept in it.
She kissed the baby's forehead gently. "Sleep well, sweetheart."
Before leaving, her eyes caught the writing on the wall:
"Welcome Sean Rayder."
Sean. So that was his name.
She quietly closed the door.
***
In the open kitchen, she saw Revan with his back turned, cooking something at the stove.
"Are you hungry?" she asked.
"A little."
"Want help?"
"No. Just sit. Want some?"
"No… but I want to talk."
"Okay. Sit down."
He finished cooking and sat across from her, a plate of eggs and sausage in front of him. She poured him a glass of water.
"What did you want to ask?"
"Eat first. I'll wait."
Only after he finished eating and the color returned to his tired face did she speak again.
"What happened to Maria?"
His hands froze. His eyes fell.
"Revan. You promised. I deserve to know."
His gaze met hers. Cold. Haunted.
"If I tell you," he said slowly, "will you stay? Will you be Sean's mother… even just for a while?"
"What? Revan—"
"I can't do this alone, Leana!" he suddenly burst out. His voice rose, filled with grief and desperation.
Leana flinched at the rawness of it.
"I'm sorry," he muttered quickly. "Just… think about it. I need to rest. Please watch over Sean."
And with that, he stood, abandoned his plate in the sink, and left the kitchen without another word—his footsteps fading up the stairs.
Leana remained still.
Something isn't right, she thought.
And for the first time since returning, she f
elt something unfamiliar stir inside her: fear.
But, Leana was already there, accepting Revan's offer even though he did not know what the man might do to him.