Chapter 207: Unexpected Visitor

Isobel managed a faint smile, though exhaustion weighed heavily on her.

The conversation had drained what little strength she had left.

"Let’s go back to your room," Julian said gently.

He carefully wheeled her back to the private room, making sure not to jostle her injured arm.

"What happened back there?" she asked Julian quietly. "Why does Isobel look so pale? She looks as though she lost her soul."

Julian’s expression darkened.

"She learned about her uncle’s past. About the death of his wife and their two daughters."

Leanne gasped.

Even Judy, who had been standing nearby, turned toward Isobel with concern.

"Why would you let her hear something so painful while she’s still injured?" Leanne demanded, shooting her husband an accusing look.

"We didn’t know how terrible it was," Julian said quietly. "None of us did."

His gaze drifted toward Leon’s room, where he should be sleeping peacefully.

"That man has suffered more than anyone should have to endure. No wonder his health deteriorated so badly. No wonder he looks so much older than his years."

Leanne’s expression softened.

She let out a quiet sigh, and the room fell silent.

There was nothing anyone could say to make Leon’s past less tragic.

Judy looked between her parents.

Both were staring at each other with the same sorrowful expression, as though they were silently mourning for a man they had only just begun to understand.

Her eyes eventually settled on Isobel.

She stepped toward the bed.

At first, she moved hesitantly, unsure whether she should disturb her sister. But then something inside her settled, and she approached with quiet confidence.

"Here. Let me help you."

Judy carefully supported Isobel as she lay back down, taking extra care to keep her injured arm from being strained.

"Thank you, Sis."

Despite the heaviness in her heart, Isobel managed a small smile.

Judy froze.

She was leaning close to her, and for one strange, fleeting moment, she wasn’t looking at Isobel at all.

She was seeing her Grandma.

Julian’s mother.

The woman who had doted on Judy and Morgan more than anyone.

The grandmother who had practically lived at their bedside whenever they were sick, fussing over them, stroking their hair, and refusing to leave until their fever broke.

The grandmother who had filled the house with the irresistible smell of freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies.

And that smile...

It was the same.

Warm. Gentle. Familiar.

Judy’s throat tightened.

"Why are you thanking me?" she finally said, forcing herself to look away. "Dad and Mom are busy. If I don’t help you and you strain your wound, it might reopen. Then you’ll only make Dad and Mom worry."

Isobel blinked, then gave a tiny smile.

"All right. I won’t thank you."

She paused.

"You’re my older sister, anyway. It’s your duty to take care of your little sister."

Judy stared at her for a moment.

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she quietly returned to the couch and sat down waiting for her parents to stop looking at each other.

For the next two hours, the family remained in the room, speaking little as they watched Isobel sleep.

Eventually, when it became clear that she wasn’t going to wake anytime soon, Julian glanced at the clock.

As they gathered their things, Leanne glanced at her daughter, who was now resting against the pillows.

"We should go."

Leanne nodded.

Judy took one last look at Isobel.

For some reason, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just seen a piece of Grandma again—something she hadn’t realized she had been missing so badly.

Then she followed her parents out of the room.

...

Isobel stirred beneath the blankets when the door opened again.

The soft click of the handle made her eyes flutter open.

It should be the nurses doing their rounds.

She barely had the strength to lift her head, expecting to see a nurse checking her IV or taking her vitals.

Instead, the moment she looked toward the doorway, she froze.

Her breath caught.

For several seconds, she could only stare.

Kristoff stood there.

And beside him was a little boy whose round cheeks had grown even fuller since she had last seen him.

Alexander.

Her son.

He had grown bigger.

Chubbier.

Cuter.

For a moment, the exhaustion, the pain in her injured arm, and the heaviness that had settled over her heart all seemed to disappear.

She couldn’t look away.

Her son was really there.

Kristoff’s gaze remained fixed on her, his expression unreadable at first. But his eyes betrayed him. They softened the instant they met hers.

Alexander, meanwhile, stared at the woman in the hospital bed with innocent curiosity, then he babbled.

"Maaa"

His small arms opened wide as if he wanted Isobel to hold him.

Isobel’s lips parted but no words came.

Then her eyes burned.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

Then another.

And suddenly, she was crying.

Not the quiet tears she had shed earlier.

These came from somewhere much deeper—an ache she had carried for so long that seeing her child again was enough to break the walls she had built around it.

"You..."

Her voice trembled.

She swallowed hard, staring at Kristoff as if she still couldn’t believe he was standing in front of her.

Then her gaze fell on Alexander again.

Her baby.

Her little boy.

He was no longer the tiny infant she remembered.

He had grown.

And somehow, that hurt almost as much as it made her heart ache with love.

...

Kristoff pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down, deliberately positioning himself on the side of Isobel’s uninjured arm.

Then he shifted Alexander higher in his arms.

"Alex, say hi to your Mom," he coaxed softly.

The seven-month-old stared at Isobel.

For a moment, he seemed fascinated by the unfamiliar sight of her lying in a hospital bed.

Then, as if deciding that the situation was far more interesting than his father’s request, he shoved his tiny hand into his mouth and happily began chewing on his fingers.

Isobel couldn’t help but laugh through her tears.

"Hey, baby Alex," she whispered. "You’ve grown so much."

Her voice trembled with emotion.

"Come to Mama."

Alexander’s eyes remained fixed on her.

He seemed to recognize her voice, because his expression suddenly changed. His little mouth opened, and a soft sound escaped him.

"Ma... ma..."

Isobel’s breath caught.

She stared at him.

"Did you..." Her voice broke. "Did you just call me Mama?"

Alexander giggled, his cheeks lifting as he bounced excitedly in Kristoff’s arms.

His little legs kicked beneath his clothes, and his hands flapped wildly with excitement.

Then he leaned forward, reaching toward Isobel with both arms.

"Mama."

It wasn’t a random babble.

He looked directly at Isobel and called her Mama.

A sob escaped Isobel’s lips as she reached out with her good hand.

"Alexander..."

Her fingers trembled as she stretched them toward him.

"My baby..."

For seven months, she had missed so many things.

His first smiles.

His changing expressions.

She had imagined this moment countless times.

But nothing—not even her wildest dreams—could have prepared her for hearing her son call her Mama for the first time.