Sorry My Step-Uncle, I'm Not Your Backup Plan novel Chapter 24

The day Rosalind left the hospital, the snow had just cleared, leaving the trees along Harley Street crystalline with frost under a pristine blue sky.

Randolph drove to collect her himself. The couple sat in silence, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words.

Young Gabriella sat in the back, drawing pictures on the foggy window, her heart light with joy.

Mum was finally coming home.

She drew their family of three on the window, her face bright with happiness.

Seeing the drawing, Rosalind's eyes filled with tears. She turned away quickly, composing herself before managing a smile. "Your birthday's coming up, darling. What would you like?"

Still drawing, Gabriella answered brightly, "I'd love a Beagle figurine, Mum."

"A Beagle?" Rosalind's voice was gentle. "Like... a real dog?"

"No, no," Gabriella shook her head. "It's a ceramic one. Victoria says there's this lovely pottery studio in Marylebone where we can paint our own. She and James went last week and made the sweetest figures."

Rosalind smiled softly. "Then that's what we'll do, darling."

On Gabriella's twelfth birthday, snow fell over London.

Mother and daughter walked hand in hand into the studio, where they'd pre-ordered an unpainted Beagle figure. The owner brought out their piece, and they began painting together.

It was their first collaborative art project.

The result delighted Gabriella—her Beagle looked even lovelier than the sample.

They left for the patisserie nearby.

Walking through the falling snow, Rosalind carrying a cake box in one hand and holding Gabriella's hand with the other, she suddenly stopped. She turned to look at her daughter, love and longing in her eyes.

"Gabriella, darling, I love you. So very, very much." Her voice was soft, almost lost in the winter wind.

Gabriella's nose was pink from the cold.

Her mother often expressed her love, so she noticed nothing unusual. "I love you too, Mum!"

Rosalind's eyes welled up again.

Her precious girl was only twelve. How would she manage without her mother?

She turned away quickly, continuing their walk before Gabriella could see her tears.

They crossed through the busy streets to the car park where Randolph waited.

From a distance, Gabriella saw her father smoking, grief etched on his face.

She'd rarely seen him look so desolate, but when he spotted them, the expression vanished instantly.

Gabriella thought she'd imagined it.

Randolph stubbed out his cigarette, voice rough as he said, "Welcome back."

Rosalind responded with a soft "mm."

That evening, Randolph cooked dinner himself.

Their little family gathered around the table in apparent harmony as Gabriella, wearing a paper crown, made her birthday wish and blew out her candles.

The crisis came during dessert.

As Rosalind lifted a forkful of cake, she suddenly began coughing up blood.

Gabriella froze in horror, her own cake falling to the floor, staining her new shoes.

Randolph gathered Rosalind in his arms, voice breaking, "Darling, don't do this. We're going to hospital right now."

Their housekeeper frantically called 999 while Gabriella stood paralyzed, mind blank.

How had this happened? Everything had been fine moments ago. Why was Mum suddenly so ill?

Hadn't the doctors said she could come home?

Wasn't she better?

The ambulance arrived quickly.

As paramedics loaded Rosalind, Gabriella saw her mother looking back tearfully, trying to speak.

Too weak to form words, she mouthed something Gabriella could just make out.

"I'm sorry."

Gabriella burst into tears, running out into the snowstorm.