Updated Apr 16, 2026 • ~11 min read
Chapter 24: The Scare
Matthias
Matthias is in a board meeting presenting quarterly projections when his phone vibrates with a call from Luna—which is unusual enough that he actually glances at it despite his strict no-interruptions-during-meetings policy, and when he sees it’s the third call in two minutes, fear spikes through his chest because Luna doesn’t call repeatedly unless something is wrong, unless it’s an emergency.
“Excuse me,” Matthias says to the boardroom full of investors and executives, already standing and reaching for his phone. “I need to take this.”
He steps into the hallway and answers before the call can go to voicemail, his heart pounding with adrenaline and terrible scenarios already playing through his mind.
“Luna? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Sofia,” Luna says, and her voice is shaking, barely controlled panic that makes Matthias’s blood run cold. “She fell at the playground. The daycare called an ambulance. They’re taking her to Brooklyn Methodist. Matthias, I’m on my way there now but I don’t know how bad it is, they just said she hurt her arm and she was crying and—”
“I’m leaving right now,” Matthias interrupts, already moving toward the elevator. “I’ll meet you there. Luna, breathe. She’s going to be okay.”
He hangs up and texts his assistant that the meeting is over, family emergency, reschedule everything, and then he’s in his car with his driver breaking probably a dozen traffic laws to get to Brooklyn Methodist Hospital as fast as possible—and the entire drive Matthias’s mind is spiraling through worst-case scenarios despite his attempt to reassure Luna.
Sofia fell.
She’s four years old and she fell and she was hurt badly enough that daycare called an ambulance instead of just calling Luna to pick her up, and what if it’s serious? What if she broke something? What if there’s internal damage? What if Matthias is about to lose his daughter when he just found her, when he’s only been her father for a few months?
He makes it to the hospital in record time, rushing through the emergency room entrance and demanding to know where Sofia Vega is, and a nurse directs him to a pediatric bay where he finds Luna pacing outside the curtain, tears streaming down her face, and Matthias crosses to her immediately and pulls her into his arms.
“Is she okay?!” Matthias asks, holding Luna tight while trying to see past the curtain to where their daughter presumably is.
“I don’t know,” Luna sobs against his chest. “They’re examining her. The daycare said she fell off the monkey bars and landed on her arm wrong and she was screaming and Matthias, what if it’s broken? What if she needs surgery?”
“Then we’ll handle it,” Matthias says, forcing calm into his voice even though he’s terrified. “Together. We’ll handle whatever this is.”
A doctor emerges from behind the curtain then—young, female, with the kind of calm competence that should be reassuring but just makes Matthias more anxious because doctors only look that calm when they’re about to deliver bad news gently.
“Mr. and Mrs. Vega?” the doctor asks, and neither Matthias nor Luna corrects the assumption of marriage. “I’m Dr. Patel. Sofia has a broken arm—clean break of her radius, which is actually good news because clean breaks heal much easier than complicated fractures.”
“She broke her arm,” Luna repeats, fresh tears starting because their baby is hurt, because Sofia experienced pain and fear and they weren’t there to protect her.
“It’s going to heal perfectly,” Dr. Patel assures them. “We’ll set it and cast it, keep her overnight for observation because she hit her head slightly when she fell, but she’s going to be absolutely fine. She’s a very brave little girl—she stopped crying once we gave her some pain medication and now she’s asking when her mama and daddy can come see her.”
The relief that floods through Matthias is so intense it almost makes his knees buckle, and he feels Luna sag against him with the same overwhelming gratitude that Sofia is okay, is going to be okay, isn’t in serious danger.
“Can we see her?” Matthias asks, already moving toward the curtain.
“Of course,” Dr. Patel says, pulling it aside. “Sofia, your parents are here.”
Sofia is sitting on the hospital bed looking tiny and vulnerable in a hospital gown, her arm already in a temporary splint, and her face is tear-stained but she’s not crying anymore, and when she sees Matthias and Luna her expression crumples with relief.
“Mama! Daddy!” Sofia says, reaching for them with her good arm. “I fell and it hurt SO much!”
“I know, baby,” Luna says, carefully hugging Sofia while avoiding her injured arm. “But the doctor says you’re going to be okay. You’re so brave.”
“The doctor gave me medicine,” Sofia reports with the kind of proud seriousness that only drugged toddlers achieve. “And I get a cast! Emma at daycare had a cast and everyone signed it!”
Matthias laughs despite the tears gathering in his eyes because his daughter just broke her arm and she’s already thinking about the social benefits of having a cast, and the resilience of children is simultaneously heartbreaking and amazing.
They stay with Sofia while the orthopedic team sets her arm properly and applies a bright purple cast (Sofia’s choice, obviously), and the whole process is awful—watching Sofia cry even with pain medication, hearing the small sounds of discomfort she makes, being unable to fix this or take the pain away—but eventually it’s done and Sofia is settled in a pediatric room for overnight observation, drowsy from pain medication and the exhaustion of the day’s trauma.
“You should both go home and get rest,” the nurse suggests. “She’ll probably sleep through the night with the medication. We’ll call if anything changes.”
“I’m staying,” Luna and Matthias say simultaneously, and they look at each other with understanding—neither of them is leaving their daughter alone in a hospital, regardless of what medical staff suggest.
The nurse brings them blankets and pillows without further argument, clearly used to parents who refuse to leave their children’s sides, and Matthias and Luna arrange themselves awkwardly in the uncomfortable chairs by Sofia’s bed, watching her sleep and occasionally checking that she’s still breathing, still okay, still their little girl recovering instead of anything worse.
It’s past midnight when Sofia is deeply asleep, drugged into peaceful rest that will hopefully let her body heal, and Matthias feels something in his chest crack open, all the fear and terror and overwhelming love he’s been holding back for hours suddenly demanding release.
“I could’ve lost her,” Matthias says quietly, his voice breaking. “I just found her. Just got to be her father. And today I could’ve lost her.”
“But you didn’t,” Luna says gently, reaching across the small space between their chairs to take his hand. “She’s okay. We’re okay.”
“I love her so much it terrifies me,” Matthias admits, and tears are running down his face now, all his CEO composure completely gone in the face of parental vulnerability. “Is this what it’s always like? Being a parent? This constant fear that something terrible could happen?”
“Welcome to parenthood,” Luna says with a sad smile. “The terror is part of the package. But so is this—” she gestures to Sofia sleeping peacefully. “Getting to love someone this much. Getting to be their whole world. It’s scary but it’s worth it.”
“I don’t know how you did this alone for three years,” Matthias says, squeezing Luna’s hand. “The fear, the responsibility, the constant worry. I’ve only been her father for a few months and I’m already terrified something will happen to her. You’ve been living with this for three years by yourself.”
“It was hard,” Luna admits. “The hardest thing I’ve ever done. But also the best. Because I had her. I had Sofia. And even on the worst days, when I was exhausted and broke and terrified I was screwing everything up, I had this perfect little person who loved me unconditionally. That made everything worth it.”
They sit in silence for a while, watching Sofia sleep, and Matthias thinks about all the moments he missed—the first time Sofia got sick, the first time she fell and got hurt, all the little fears and terrors that Luna navigated alone while Matthias remained ignorant of his daughter’s existence.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Matthias says. “For all of it. The pregnancy, her birth, every sick day and scary moment. You shouldn’t have had to do it alone.”
“But I don’t have to do it alone anymore,” Luna says, and there’s forgiveness in her voice, understanding that they can’t change the past but they can build a different future. “Today when Carmen called about Sofia, the first thing I did was call you. Because I knew you’d come. I knew you’d be here. That’s what matters, Matthias. Not what happened four years ago, but what’s happening now. You’re here. You’re her father. You’re my partner. That’s everything.”
“I love you,” Matthias says, the words inadequate for everything he feels but the only ones he has. “Both of you. You’re my family. My whole world.”
“We love you too,” Luna says, and she gets up to cross to his chair, settling herself awkwardly in his lap despite the uncomfortable hospital furniture, and Matthias wraps his arms around her and they hold each other while their daughter sleeps, united in their love and fear and overwhelming gratitude that Sofia is okay.
The night passes slowly, both of them dozing fitfully in their uncomfortable positions, waking every time Sofia stirs to make sure she’s not in pain, and by morning they’re exhausted and stiff but Sofia is awake and cheerful, the resilience of childhood already asserting itself.
“My arm doesn’t hurt anymore,” Sofia announces, examining her purple cast with interest. “Can I go to school and show everyone?”
“Not yet, sweetheart,” Luna says, smoothing Sofia’s curls back from her forehead. “You have to rest today. But soon you can show all your friends.”
Dr. Patel comes by during morning rounds and clears Sofia to go home with a prescription for children’s pain medication and instructions about keeping the cast dry and coming back in six weeks to have it removed, and Matthias arranges for a car to take them home while Luna gathers their things and helps Sofia get dressed.
The drive back to Brooklyn feels surreal—less than twenty-four hours ago Matthias was in a board meeting worrying about quarterly projections, and now he’s bringing his daughter home from the hospital with a broken arm, his priorities completely reordered by one terrifying afternoon.
“I’m taking the rest of the week off,” Matthias announces as they pull up to their house. “To help with Sofia. To be here.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Luna starts, but Matthias shakes his head.
“I want to,” he says. “Yesterday proved that everything else—work, meetings, deals—none of it matters compared to this. Compared to her. To you. I’m staying home.”
Sofia falls asleep on the couch within an hour of getting home, the trauma and medication catching up with her, and Matthias sits with her head in his lap while Luna makes phone calls to update Carmen and arrange time off from her own job, and the domesticity of it—the crisis management and shared responsibility and partnership in handling their daughter’s needs—feels more meaningful than any business success Matthias has ever achieved.
“Thank you,” Luna says when she comes back to find Matthias still sitting with Sofia. “For being here. For dropping everything and coming to the hospital. For staying home this week. You’re a really good father, Matthias.”
“I’m trying,” Matthias says, smoothing Sofia’s curls the way Luna does when their daughter is sleeping. “That’s all I can do. Try to be what she needs. What you both need.”
“You’re succeeding,” Luna assures him, and she settles on the couch next to them, creating a family tableau of the three of them together, safe, home.
And Matthias thinks about yesterday’s terror and today’s relief and realizes that this is what love looks like—not the romantic fantasy of perfect moments, but the reality of showing up in crisis, of being terrified together, of holding each other through the fear and coming out stronger on the other side.
Sofia broke her arm and it was awful.
But they handled it together.
As a family.
As partners.
And that, Matthias realizes, is what forever actually means—not just the happy moments but also the scary ones, not just the celebrations but also the hospital vigils, not just the joy but also the terror that comes from loving someone so much that losing them would break you.
He’s a father.
Luna’s partner.
Part of a family.
And nothing—not work, not fear, not the memory of missed years—is ever going to make him take that for granted again.
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