Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Leila lifted her gaze, her face an impassive mask as she looked at Clayton. “Mr. Morgan, you’re overthinking. I won’t hold a grudge against you,” she said flatly.
Leila felt absolutely nothing toward Clayton-no hate, no anger, not even pity. He was nothing to her.
If it weren’t for the debt Leila owed Clayton from the past, she wouldn’t have shown any politeness, let alone let the Morgan family off so lightly. Letting the Morgan family walk away unscathed would make Calvin’s unfair suffering less severe than it already was.
Leila understood it was Cara who was at fault. One could even argue that Clayton had no part in it at all. After all, he hadn’t been there when Cara had unleashed her reign of terror. But it was Clayton who had enabled Cara and allowed her to become so ruthless and cruel.
Leila hadn’t voiced any of this, but Clayton could practically read her mind. His hands clenched into fists, as if forcing himself to swallow a bitter pill. A grimace twisted his features. “I have my reasons,” he mumbled. “I don’t have a choice.”
Leila pressed her lips together, barely managing to conceal her scorn. Shame washed over Clayton, and he made a hasty excuse to leave.
Clayton had already hired a nurse for Elma, so he didn’t stick around.
The truth was, guilt and shame were eating Clayton alive.
Even though Cara had tormented Elma terribly, Clayton couldn’t do anything to Cara. He blamed himself for Cara’s hellish life on the island for ten years. Despite his efforts to search for her for years and ultimately bring her back, he might carry that guilt for the rest of his life.
After a moment of contemplation, Leila walked over to Elma’s bedside.
Elma remained unconscious, trapped in a restless sleep. Beads of sweat dotted her pale forehead, and her breathing remained shallow and labored.
Beads of perspiration dotted Elma’s forehead, and she mumbled incoherently, her small face contorted in distress.
Leila gently dabbed at the sweat on Elma’s forehead with a cool cloth. With a soft sigh, she carefully adjusted the blankets, ensuring Elma was comfortably tucked in.
As Leila turned to leave, Elma’s small hand shot out, grasping hers with surprising strength.
Elma’s eyes fluttered open halfway, revealing a hazy gaze. “Mommy, don’t go,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. The word “Mommy” echoed in Leila’s ears, sending a jolt through her. Her heart ached with a sudden, unexpected tenderness, and she instinctively tightened her grip on Elma’s tiny hand. “What did you call me, sweetheart?” she asked softly, her voice trembling slightly.
Elma tried to exert some strength, but her body was still weak and unresponsive.
Noticing Elma’s struggle, Leila quickly extended her hand further, offering more support.
Elma clutched Leila’s hand, her small fingers curling around it with a desperate urgency, as if clinging to a lifeline..
Elma’s delicate features were etched with vulnerability, and such a sight pierced Leila’s heart.
Leila had mixed feelings. This was the child of her ex-husband and another woman. Logically, she shouldn’t get involved. This wasn’t her problem. But something held her back, a strange reluctance to pull away. She knew that if she withdrew her hand now, it would devastate Elma, possibly bringing tears. And crying might aggravate Elma’s injuries.
Suddenly, a vivid image flashed in Leila’s mind: her own daughter, Sophie, frail and vulnerable during a childhood illness. The sight of a child in pain was simply unbearable. Leila’s heart ached for Elma, her maternal instincts kicking in.
Almost without realizing it, Leila found herself drawn to Elma’s bedside, her mind conjuring up justifications for her gesture. Elma’s sweet little face lit up with a smile as she tightly held Leila’s hand, afraid that this warmth would disappear.
Elma’s voice was a soft murmur, barely above a whisper, but her words were clear enough. “Mommy, can you be a little nicer to me? Can we go home? I don’t like it here. Daddy doesn’t either.”
Feeling that Elma was delirious, Leila reached out to feel Elma’s forehead. “Oh my!” she exclaimed, pulling her hand back quickly. Elma was burning up.
Leila immediately summoned the nurse.
“Perhaps you should inform Mr. Morgan,” the nurse suggested. Leila’s eyes hardened. “No need,” she said curtly. “He’s probably busy with… other matters. I’m a friend of the family. I’ll stay with her.”
Leila’s thoughts drifted to Calvin. “Actually, is it possible to move another child into this ward?” It would be much easier to keep an eye on both children if they were in the same room. This was the Morgan family’s private hospital, so pulling a few strings wouldn’t be a problem.
And to top it off, Clayton had explicitly told the staff to bend over backward for Leila before he left.
Leila merely requested a transfer of the child’s ward, which was not an excessive request.
One look at Elma, and Calvin was fully on board with Leila’s plan. He even piped up, “Mom, I’m feeling much better now. My cut barely even hurts. You should focus on Elma.”
His sweet concern only made Leila feel worse. “Honey, I can’t just leave you here by yourself.”
Calvin shook his head, his gaze lingering on Elma with a touch of sympathy. “Poor Elma. I have a sister and a mom, but she…” His voice trailed off.
A shiver ran down Calvin’s spine as he remembered Cara’s violent outburst at Elma.
Even though Elma was terrified herself, she had bravely shielded Calvin from Cara’s rage.
The sadness in Elma’s eyes revealed that this wasn’t a one-time thing. It was a heartbreaking indication that Elma had endured God knows how much abuse.
Calvin had always believed mothers, taking Leila as one example, were the kindest, most wonderful people in the world. Witnessing Cara’s cruelty had shattered that belief.
Leila took Calvin’s small, slightly cold hand in hers, sensing that he was reliving those awful memories. She planted a soft kiss on his forehead. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Sleep now. I’m here, and I’ll keep you both safe.”
Calvin’s worried expression softened, and he offered Leila a small, reassuring smile. He was such a sweet kid. “Okay,” he replied obediently.
Leila suddenly realized how lucky she was. At least, she had remarkable children like Calvin and Sophie. They were her everything, a gift from fate, her anchor in this crazy world. Even though the private hospital room had a comfy bed for family who stuck around, Leila barely got any sleep.
Elma’s fever kept spiking, and she woke up crying several times. Time and again, Elma would wake up to find Leila by her bedside. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, she’d burst into tears, her small body wracked with sobs. No one, not even Elma herself, could quite understand these overwhelming waves of emotion.
Leila would patiently comfort Elma, gently restraining her from thrashing about too much and reopening her injuries.
After her emotional outburst, Elma would be left exhausted, her little body spent. She’d lie quietly, her gaze fixed on Leila with a silent plea for comfort.
Sensing Elma’s need for closeness, Leila lay down next to her. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” she asked softly.
Elma snuggled close to Leila, burying her face in Leila’s chest, taking in Leila’s comforting scent. “Nothing,” she mumbled.
After a brief silence, Elma added, her voice barely above a whisper, “You should leave tomorrow. Don’t worry about me. I’m not your kid. You’re just… You’re just butting in.”
Leila sighed. Elma was just a child, yet she already understood the sting of those words and the implication of unwanted interference.
Though Elma often acted headstrong, Leila knew she was clearly a bright girl, far too perceptive for her own good. It was as if she understood the world with a painful clarity that most children her age were blissfully unaware of.
Leila’s heart ached for Elma. She gently stroked Elma’s back, trying to offer some solace. “Don’t worry, Elma,” she reassured her. “I’ll stay until you’re feeling better.”
“Calvin’s here with you too, and Sophie will come visit tomorrow. Is there anything you want to eat? Any games you’d like to play to pass the time?”
Tears welled up in Elma’s eyes, but her next words were like daggers to Leila’s heart. “I don’t need your fake kindness,” she spat out. “My mom said you’re a mistress.”
Leila froze, her gaze hardening.
Fear gripped Elma, and she instinctively raised her hands to shield her face. But the expected blow never came.
Instead, Leila let out a weary sigh.
Leila carefully tucked the covers around Elma. “You woke up all sweaty, huh?” she asked softly. “Are you feeling any hotter now? If you are, I can help you change into some fresh clothes and put clean sheets on the bed.”
Elma hesitated, her eyes fixed on Leila. “Aren’t you mad at me?” she asked, a hint of defiance in her voice. “I didn’t mean what I said. It’s just… well, it’s what my mom told me to say. She said that if it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have such a bad temper, always angry, and things wouldn’t be so messed up between her and my dad.”
Leila maintained her composure, her face betraying no hint of anger. The thought of anger had crossed her mind, but it wasn’t directed at Elma. The poor child was completely blameless in all of this. What was Cara playing at? This was a squabble between grown-ups. Why drag a child into it? And honestly, were things really that terrible between Cara and Landon? She doubted it.
Lost in her thoughts, Leila gently stroked Elma’s hair. “Don’t worry about any of this, sweetheart,” she murmured. “I’m going to step out for a little while.”
Elma watched Leila leave, a wave of regret and frustration washing over her. She sighed, frustrated with her inability to express herself. Maybe those gossipy servants back at the villa were right. It was her fault for having such a bad temper and never saying anything nice. No wonder nobody liked her. If she were kinder, maybe her mom would actually like her. Maybe she could have a mom like Leila-kind and gentle.
Lost in thought, Elma drifted off to sleep. She vaguely remembered someone coming into the room before she completely dozed off.
Leila went for a walk to clear her head before heading back to Elma’s ward. The lights were off, but she noticed a shadowy figure next to Elma’s bed.
Leila froze. She grabbed a broom by the door, ready to scream for help. But then the figure turned, and she gasped. It was Landon. The air crackled with awkwardness. Leila felt ridiculous, standing there with a broom as though she was about to fight off an intruder.
Landon saw her reach for the light switch and frantically gestured for her to stay quiet, pointing at Elma, who was fast asleep.