There were days when Nova woke up and pretended everything was fine.
This morning was one of them. She sat upright with Luca’s help, combed her fingers through her thinning hair, and told herself she could walk to the garden if she really tried. But the illusion lasted only as long as the thought itself. The dizziness crept in almost instantly, settling behind her eyes like fog. Her body gave out as quickly as her resolve, and she sank back into the pillows, powerless.
Luca caught her before she could fall too far. He always did now.
He sat beside her with the same quiet intensity that had shadowed him for weeks. The man who once commanded empires with his voice now held a spoon with trembling fingers, feeding her soup with the kind of tenderness that cracked her heart wide open. He no longer smiled. He rarely spoke unless spoken to. But he remained—steadfast, unwavering—watching over her like she might vanish if he dared to look away.
“I’m sorry,” she had whispered once when he was tucking her blanket tighter around her shoulders.
“For what?” he’d asked.
“For leaving you like this,” she murmured. “Slowly.”
His jaw had clenched. He didn’t answer.
Some truths required no reply.
***
That evening, Alex came home late again. Her hair was tousled from wind and weariness, blazer wrinkled, shoulders tense. She smelled faintly of ink, stress, and coffee. Nova saw the exhaustion in her eyes instantly—and it broke her. Alex was trying too hard, stretching herself between the company, her father, and Nova, all at once.
But she still smiled when she walked in.
“Hi, Mom,” she greeted, slipping off her heels at the bedroom door before padding across the floor.
“You’re up late,” Nova noted.
“I could say the same for you.” Alex plopped down beside her and leaned back, sighing. “Rough day?”
Nova gave a tired smile. “I might know a thing or two about those.”
Alex chuckled, rubbing at her temples. “I finally understand why you needed wine after board meetings.”
“I warned you, didn’t I?” Nova teased gently, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter’s cheek.
The silence between them was warm, filled with unsaid things. The clock ticked in the background, loud against the hush of the house. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees.
Then Nova asked, “Do you and Zade get along?”
Alex tensed. It was a small reaction—barely there—but Nova noticed.
“Yeah,” Alex replied quickly, her tone almost too light. “I mean, it’s fine. He’s not a bad person.”
A lie.
Nova knew it instantly. She could read Alex like she had since she was a toddler. But she let it go. Her daughter was protecting her—keeping one more weight from her shoulders. And maybe they both needed the illusion tonight.
“That’s good to hear,” Nova said quietly.
Alex nodded, then shifted so her head rested against the headboard, the edge of weariness returning to her face. “Do you remember when I told you I wanted to get married on a rooftop?”
Nova smiled at the memory. “You were seven. You made Luca promise to build you a glass palace on top of a skyscraper.”
“He said it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard.”
“And you didn’t talk to him for two days.”
“I told him I’d marry someone else.” Alex grinned. “I think I even wrote the name on a napkin.”
They both laughed, the kind of soft, aching laughter that comes with nostalgia. For a fleeting second, the world outside the room didn’t matter. There was only mother and daughter, and the echo of a dream once drawn in crayon on the kitchen wall.
Nova turned to her, eyes suddenly glassy. “I still want to see it, you know. Your wedding.”
The words landed heavily between them. Alex’s smile faltered. Her posture changed, just slightly, as if the truth had taken some of her weight.
“Mom...”
“I’m not asking for much,” Nova said softly. “Just a few more months. Just long enough to see you walk down that aisle. Even if it’s not on a rooftop.”
Alex didn’t respond right away. She stared down at her hands, the silence telling Nova everything she needed to know.
“I’ll try,” she whispered. “I’ll try my best.”
Nova reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze.
That would have to be enough.
***
After Alex left the room, the silence returned, louder than before.
Nova stared at the ceiling for a while, blinking back tears that never quite fell. She thought about the rooftop wedding. About whether she’d be able to sit through the ceremony, whether she’d remember Alex’s face clearly enough, whether the words of the vows would still make sense by then.
She reached slowly for the journal by her bedside, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened it to a fresh page. The pen shook in her hand, but she managed a few crooked lines.
Alex laughed today. She looked tired, but beautiful. I hope she gets her rooftop, even if I can’t be there to see it.
She closed the journal and let it rest on the blanket beside her.
The memories crept in next—uninvited, but familiar.
Luca’s mother. The final visit Nova had made before the woman passed. Her pale skin. Hollow eyes. The distant way she’d stared past Nova, as if she already existed in a world beyond the room.
Nova remembered how tightly Luca had held her hand on the drive home that day. How they hadn’t spoken. How she had silently promised herself she’d never fade away like that.
But now...
Now she was fading. Slowly. Gently. Like a candle that still flickered, but knew it would never burn bright again.
She closed her eyes and imagined a rooftop. A glass railing. Her daughter in a gown. Wind in her hair. A soft “I do” carried by the breeze.
Maybe that would be enough.