Chapter 7 Forgive Them

By the time daylight flooded the room, it was already close to noon. Cecilia could not remember the last time she had slept so soundly—certainly not since yesterday.

She lay on the hospital bed for a long while, unmoving. Only when the sunlight grew sharp enough to sting her eyes did she raise a hand to shield them.

A voice broke the stillness.

"You're awake. You sure can sleep."

The sudden sound startled her. She turned, and the familiarity of the voice hit her before her gaze found Rufus—his mouth curved in that half-smile, half-smirk she knew too well.

Seeing him here felt almost unreal, as if she had stumbled into a ghost. Even on nights when they had shared the same bed, she would always wake to find the space beside her empty. In his own words, he preferred not to start the morning looking at something that would only make him feel unlucky.

From his rumpled clothes and the shadow of stubble along his jaw, she wondered if he had stayed here all night.

"You… stayed here?" Her voice was rough, and there was a flicker of hope she hadn't known was there.

He didn't give her the answer she wanted. His eyes locked on hers, steady and unreadable. "What do you think?"

The flatness of the reply carried a sting, as if mocking her for imagining too much.

She pressed her lips together and let the silence settle.

But Rufus's own unease pushed him to speak. "What did you dream about last night?"

Cecilia blinked at him, unsure she'd heard right.

He didn't bother to explain. He simply waited.

"Did I talk in my sleep?" she asked, frowning slightly. It was the only reason she could think of for him to know she'd dreamed at all.

The memory of that dream brought a bitter curve to her mouth.

Rufus said nothing, arms folded as he sat across from her, waiting for the answer that had kept him restless all night.

She drew a breath, bracing herself. "You don't remember?"

Remember what?

Before he could ask, she gave a small, self-mocking smile. "Of course you don't. All those promises, those vows… I'm the only one still holding on to them."

"Rufus, you told me you'd find me." Her gaze held not malice, but a mix of hurt and disbelief.

For a moment, her face seemed to blur and shift, overlapping with the face of a little girl from years ago.

Rufus sat up straight. "What nonsense are you talking about? When did I ever make you a promise like that?"

His voice rose, as if volume could cover the uncertainty underneath.

Cecilia had carried these words for years, and now she wanted them out. She needed an answer. The weight of it had been too much to bear alone.

"Rufus," she said slowly, each word deliberate, "back on Horizon Hope, you said you'd find me… that you'd protect me for the rest of my life.

"I've been waiting for you."

She hadn't meant to cry. Her voice was steady, but the tears came anyway, spilling fast and hot, unstoppable.

Rufus opened his mouth, but something lodged in his throat, stealing the words.

Cecilia wiped at her cheeks with the heel of her hand. "All these years, I've lived on that promise. Even after the Chapman family took you away, I stayed on deck, clinging to the belief we'd meet again."

Her head shook, despair hollowing her voice. "Now it feels like some cruel farce… and I'm the fool at the center of it, playing my part while everyone laughs."

The confession left her with a long, shuddering breath. The tension she had carried for so long seemed to snap. She pressed a hand to her churning stomach, her breath coming fast, her face pale.

The trials had done more than make her ill. Her body was too fragile now to weather any surge of emotion.

But her words had hit Rufus hard. Last night's muttered dream had sparked suspicion; today's confession felt like proof.

And yet… how could that be? Every piece of information he had said the girl from Horizon Hope—the one who had clung to him—was Blair.

"You're talking nonsense," he said, unwilling to think too deeply, afraid of what he might find.

He was about to say more when a cough sounded from outside the room.

Years of knowing her made recognition instant—Blair.

He rose and opened the door.

Blair stood there, pale as paper, supported by a nurse. "I thought I'd come see Cecilia. I didn't expect to find you here too."

She didn't lash out or demand explanations. Instead, she kept everything civil, as if nothing had been overheard.

Her composure stirred guilt in Rufus. He knew how kind she was, how real her years of companionship had been. How could he let a few of Cecilia's words make him doubt her?

He spoke quickly, putting distance between himself and Cecilia. "The specialists have developed a new medication. I came to tell her about changing to it for an experimental drug trial."

Blair's smile was gentle, knowing. She slipped her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder. "I knew you'd always take care of me. You've been my knight since we were children."

Rufus meant to walk her back to her ward, but she insisted on visiting Cecilia.

On the bed, Cecilia closed her eyes, too tired to deal with Blair.

But Blair didn't leave. She sat down beside the bed, her hand tightening around Rufus's, drawing strength from the contact. Her gaze held on Cecilia, her voice earnest.

"I know you've endured a lot, taking those trial drugs for my sake. I owe you my life. But please… forgive Father and Rufus. They only acted out of fear for me, and resorted to desperate measures. If you need someone to hate, someone to blame… let it be me."