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“After you and Jack left, I did some research. Trust me, if I’m going to let Jack go to your town with you, I’m going to unearth everything about you.”

“Okay…”

“I found out you battled leukemia from age eight to twelve. That’s a pretty tough road to walk, Mia. I can only imagine how hard that must have been for you.”

I feel a tightness in my chest. I never told anyone about how hard those years were. I’ve always kept it to myself, buried under the layers of my present life. But hearing Nova acknowledge it, hearing her say she understands, it hits differently.

“It gave me more understanding of why you’re helping the kids and why the foundation means so much to you. I just want to say you’re doing great. You’re a wonderful person, Mia, and not only will I make full payment, I’d like to make a donation of my own.”

“Nova.” My voice almost breaks. “Thank you. It wasn’t easy,” I admit, my voice a little quieter than usual. “But it’s something I don’t really talk about. Not with anyone.”

I swallow hard, pushing back the emotions I thought I had long buried. “It’s just… you’re right that it’s why I help these kids, you know? I want to give them hope. I want to make sure they don’t feel alone, that there’s a way out, like there was for me.”

Nova’s voice softens even further, as if she’s trying to understand me better. “I get it, Mia. You want to make a difference. You’ve been through it, and now you want to help those going through the same thing. I admire that.”

Her words are kind, and they make me feel heard, understood in a way I didn’t expect. But then, something in me pulls back, and I hesitate before speaking again.

“I need you to keep this quiet, Nova. Please don’t tell Jack,” I ask, my voice a little firmer now. “I don’t want him to know.”

“I haven’t told him, but why not?”

The reason is simple. I don’t want him to look at me the way every other man who finds out about my past looks at me—with pity. Like I’m something fragile they mustn’t touch. But I don’t tell Nova that.

Instead, I say, “Because I like to keep personal information out of business. Jack and I have a strictly professional relationship.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Nova laughs again. “All right. My lips are sealed. Thank you, Mia. Talk soon.”

“Bye, Nova.”

The call with Nova lingers in my mind as I drive back home, the weight of the conversation heavy on my chest. I try to push it aside, but it’s hard not to think about it. The thing is, there’s something about my past that makes it impossible for me to fully open up to anyone.

Most people treat me differently when they find out, and I’m not sure why. I can’t imagine Jack suddenly treating me nicer because he found out I used to be sick. That’s another thing I’ve moved on from, and I’d hate for it to be the center of my life.

The next morning, the sun is barely up when I head to the hospital. The moment I step through the door, the familiar scent of antiseptic and the soft hum of medical machines surround me. It’s all a part of my life, one that I try to keep separate from my everyday routine, but I can never quite shake it off.

I make my way to the pediatric ward, where the children of the foundation are usually waiting. They’re always so full of life despite their conditions. It’s a bit contagious, honestly. No matter how rough the day gets, seeing them laugh and play always brings a sense of peace I didn’t expect to find in a place like this.

“Hi, Mia!” a small voice calls out from behind a curtain.

I smile, turning to find Ellie, a six-year-old with short brown hair, peeking out from behind a set of colorful curtains. Her face lights up when she sees me, and I can’t help but kneel down in front of her.

“Ellie, hey!” I respond, my voice warm and inviting. “How are you today?”

“Better,” she says, holding up a drawing she’s been working on. “I made you something. It’s a flower, like you always bring.”

I take the paper from her, admiring the bright, cheerful colors she’s chosen. Despite her condition, Ellie is always the one to brighten everyone’s day, even from a hospital bed.

“Thank you, Ellie, it’s beautiful,” I say, ruffling her hair. “And yes, I brought flowers today. I’ll give them to you in the garden, okay?”

She beams at me before running off to play with some other kids in the playroom. As I stand there watching her, I feel the familiar pang of grief mixed with pride. These kids—these brave, beautiful souls—they’re the reason I do everything. I’m here for them, not just as a symbol of what they could be, but as someone who understands. I’ve been where they are.

After a few more rounds of playing and talking with the kids, I make my way to the nurses’ station, where I’ve arranged to meet with the team. There’s a lot to discuss with the upcoming charity event, and I need to make sure everything is in place.

When I walk into the small office, I’m greeted by Nurse Linda, the head nurse of the pediatric ward. She’s always so professional, but there’s warmth behind her eyes that makes her easy to talk to. Along with her are two other nurses, Sara and Jason, who’ve been with the foundation since the beginning.

“Hi, Mia,” Linda says, offering me a seat at the table. “How are you today?”

“I’m good, just checking in,” I reply, sitting down. “I know the charity event is just around the corner, and I wanted to go over everything one more time in person before it gets too close.”