Luna. Chapter 70

(Kael's POV)

Adrian found me in the hospital cafeteria at three in the morning, staring at a cup of coffee that had gone cold hours ago.

"You should be sleeping," he said, sitting down across from me.

"Can't sleep."

"Pain?"

"Thinking."

"About what?"

"About how many ways I've failed as a father."

Adrian was quiet for a moment. "You want to talk about it?"

"Four years, Adrian. Four years of my son's life that I missed because I was too busy playing spy games."

"You were saving his grandfather's life."

"I was making choices that kept me away from my family. There's a difference."

"Is there? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you made an impossible choice and did the best you could with it."

I pushed the cold coffee away. "He doesn't even know me. When he wakes up from surgery, he's going to be looking for Magnus, not me."

"So you get to know him now."

"What if it's too late?"

"It's never too late. You're his father."

"Biology doesn't make someone a father."

"No, but love does. And sacrifice does. And showing up when it matters does." Adrian leaned forward. "You showed up today, Kael. When your son needed bone marrow, you were there. When Lyra needed support, you were there. That counts for something."

"It counts for one day."

"It counts for the beginning."

I thought about that. About beginnings and second chances and whether it was possible to build a relationship with a child who'd spent four years thinking someone else was his father.

"What if he doesn't want a relationship with me?"

"Then you keep showing up until he does. Or until he's old enough to make that decision for himself."

"And Lyra?"

"What about Lyra?"

"She says she forgives me, but she also says forgiveness doesn't fix everything."

"Does it need to fix everything?"

"I want my family back, Adrian."

"The family you had, or the family you could have?"

I thought about that distinction. The family I'd had with Lyra had been built on incomplete information and hidden fears. We'd been young and idealistic and unprepared for the complexities of Alpha politics and supernatural threats.

The family we could have would be built on truth. On the knowledge of what we'd survived separately and what we might accomplish together.

"The family we could have," I said finally.

"Then stop looking backward and start looking forward."

Adrian was right, but looking forward felt impossible when I didn't know what I was looking toward.

"Have you eaten anything today?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I'm not hungry."

"That wasn't the question."

I tried to remember the last time I'd had food. Yesterday morning, maybe. Before Lyra's call about Asher.

"No."

"You just donated bone marrow. Your body needs fuel to recover."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're exhausted, dehydrated, and running on adrenaline." Adrian stood up. "Come on."

"Where?"

"To get you some actual food and then back to your room where you're going to sleep for at least six hours."

"I can't leave Asher."

"Asher is sleeping under medical supervision with his mother watching over him. He doesn't need you to suffer through unnecessary pain and exhaustion."

As much as I wanted to argue, Adrian was right. I was no good to my family if I collapsed from neglect.

"Six hours," I agreed.

"Eight."

"Six."

"Seven, and that's my final offer."

I managed a smile. "Deal."

As Adrian walked me back toward the recovery wing, I wondered if this was what normal felt like. Having friends who cared about your wellbeing. Making compromises about sleep schedules instead of life-or-death decisions about family safety.

Maybe normal was something I could learn to want.