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I roll my eyes, but I’m grateful for her support. As much as I want to pretend I don’t care about Jack Calloway, something inside me keeps pulling me back into this tangled web. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s something else entirely. But I’m going to face him. Whether I’m ready or not. There’s nothing to be wary of. I’m in control here. Not him. This is my turf.

Later that evening, I walk into the hospital with mixed feelings. I try to see the kids at least once a week, on weekends. I saw them a few days ago, and the only reason I’m here right now is because I’m stalling. But it doesn’t matter because the kids will be excited anyway.

The farther I walk down the halls, the easier it is to concentrate on the kids and forget everything else. The leukemia foundation I started a few years ago is very close to my heart, even if it’s a constant reminder of what I used to suffer. The walls here are familiar and comforting. Something about these kids makes everything else fade into the background, their smiles and optimism pushing away my worries.

I make my way through the hospital corridors, greeting the nurses who know me well. When I step into the ward, the kids’ faces light up. Their energy is contagious. Even on their hardest days, they manage to smile, and I always feel like I’m the lucky one to be in their presence.

I approach the first bed, where a little girl named Sophie is sitting up, playing with a toy. Her wide blue eyes greet me, and she giggles when she sees me.

“Mia!” she calls, holding up her stuffed bear. “I got a new friend! Her name’s Sparkles. Can you guess what color her fur is?”

I smile, sitting down beside her bed. “I’m going to guess… pink?”

She shakes her head, grinning. “Nope! It’s rainbow-colored! Isn’t that cool?”

“Wow,” I laugh. “Sparkles must be the coolest bear in the whole world.”

Sophie nods earnestly, her tiny fingers holding the bear close. “She’s my magic bear. She makes me feel better when the doctors poke me. She doesn’t like the needles.”

I rub her hand gently. “I understand, Sophie. I don’t like needles either, but you’re so brave. You remind me of a superhero.”

Her eyes widen, and she beams. “Do you think I can be a superhero, too?”

“Absolutely,” I say with conviction. “You’ve got the power inside you to do anything you set your mind to.”

She grins and squeezes the bear, her little hands strong despite the odds. We chat for a while, and I share a laugh with her before moving on.

I walk down the row of beds, stopping to check on a few more kids, each with their own unique stories. One boy, Luke, is lying in his bed with a set of colorful markers in his hands. He’s busy drawing a picture of a dragon on a piece of paper.

“Hey there, Luke,” I say, sitting on the edge of his bed. “What’s your dragon’s name?”

He looks up, his face lighting up. “Oh! His name is Fuego! He’s got fire in his belly. That’s why he’s so fierce.”

I laugh. “He sounds amazing. Does Fuego have any friends?”

Luke nods, his expression serious. “Yeah, he’s got a sidekick named Cloudy. Cloudy is a big, fluffy dragon that can turn into a cloud and float everywhere.”

“That’s awesome!” I say. “What do you think they do together? Do they go on adventures?”

Luke’s eyes light up, and he starts talking animatedly about Fuego and Cloudy’s epic journey to find the Lost Island, where magical creatures live. As he talks, his voice grows louder, and the room seems brighter. I can’t help but admire his imagination. He’s fighting a battle no child should have to face, but his spirit is unbreakable.

Before I leave the ward, I check in with the nurses and make sure everything is running smoothly. As I walk out, I feel a sense of peace, knowing that, despite the weight these kids carry, their smiles and laughter fill the air like the strongest kind of medicine. My heart also has a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing that I’m doing all I can for them.

I make my way to the car, my heart full but heavy. I think about how life has changed for them, how they’ve learned to fight when it seems like there’s no way out. I try to channel some of their strength as I drive to Jack’s cottage.

By the time I reach the house, my mind is back on my task, but the encounter with the kids lingers with me, reminding me of the bigger picture. Jack’s drama feels trivial in comparison.

I park the car and walk up to the front door, where I see Brody inside, absorbed in his laptop. I knock lightly, and he looks up, grinning.

“Hey Mia,” he greets. “I haven’t seen you here in like a week!”

I laugh. “I’ve been busy, but it’s not like I didn’t see you yesterday. Where’s Jack?”

“Somewhere in the backyard.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” I’m already stalking toward the back door. The backyard door creaks open, and I step outside. Ifreeze when I see him. There, in the warm evening light, Jack is shirtless, standing tall with a paintbrush in his hand, the canvas in front of him coming to life with each stroke.

His broad back is exposed, and I can’t help but pause for a moment, taking in the sight before me. He moves fluidly, absorbed in his art, and for a brief second, I forget why I came here. The scene feels intimate, as if I’m intruding on something personal.