Chapter 197: Chapter 197 What happened to Riccardo
After art class, Alina clapped her hands with a smile.
"Alright everyone, line up! It’s music class!"
The babies immediately brightened. Chairs scraped, little feet padded against the floor, and even Boo floated quickly into place, bobbing in line between Sable and Rocky. Drake was already bouncing on his toes, humming loudly to himself.
One by one, they followed Alina out of the classroom, their giggles and soft chatter filling the hallway. It was adorable to see them so small yet so disciplined, walking (or floating) in a neat line behind her.
When they reached the music room, Alina pushed the door open and stepped aside, allowing the children to shuffle in ahead of her.
The moment they stepped inside, Drake’s eyes lit up like stars when he spotted the drum. Without waiting for a single instruction, he bolted across the room and plopped himself right on top of it as if it were his throne. "Boom! Boom!" His little feet kicked against the sides, sending chaotic thuds echoing through the music room.
"Drake," Alina sighed, walking closer with her hands on her hips, "sweetheart, you can’t sit there. Everyone needs to share the drum."
"Nooo, teacher! It’s mine! It’s so soft and shiny! I like it!" he said stubbornly, hugging the drum as if someone might snatch it away.
"Drake, you’re going to dent it before anyone even plays," Alina coaxed gently, crouching to his level. "Come down, and teacher will let you have the first turn, alright?"
Drake blinked at her, then pouted dramatically. "Promise?"
"I promise." She offered her pinky, and after a long suspicious squint, Drake finally climbed down, though not without hugging the drum one last time before patting it like a beloved pet.
The other babies sighed in relief, Boo even whispering, "Finally, banana brain moved."
After music class, nap time came. Alina dimmed the lights and hushed the room while the babies curled up with their plushies. Boo floated onto his banana, Luna nestled into her wolf form, and Felix’s fluffy tails curled protectively around him. The peaceful sound of soft breathing filled the classroom, and Alina felt warmth in her chest as she watched them sleep.
She quietly slipped back to her desk and opened her laptop, settling into the next part of her syllabus. After a few minutes, she sighed and leaned back, unlocking her phone to scroll absently through her feed, giving her mind a small break.
Then a notification popped up. Celeste posted a new update.
Alina clicked without much thought, but the moment the photo opened, her stomach dropped. Celeste was smiling faintly at the camera, yet her eyes looked dull and heavy, as though hiding some unspoken sorrow. And behind her blurred but unmistakable was an arm wrapped in a cast.
Alina’s breath caught. Her fingers tightened around her phone.
Is that... Riccardo?
*****
Meanwhile, at the hospital, Riccardo lay propped up on the bed, his body covered in bruises. Both his legs were broken and his right arm was bound in a heavy cast. He still couldn’t make sense of what had happened—one moment he had been laughing at the club, the next he was dragged into a dark alley by strangers and beaten until he could barely breathe. His chest burned with pain, but what burned even more was the thought of Celeste not being there when he needed her most.
"Celeste!" he shouted the moment she stepped into the room, her phone still in her hand, fingers flying across the screen. "You ran off again! Who’s going to help me like this? I can’t even move, damn it!"
Celeste rolled her eyes and slipped the phone into her pocket, her jaw tightening as she tried to control her rising anger. "Cardo! I am your girlfriend, not your maid! Stop shouting at me like I’m a servant. I have a life too!"
Riccardo’s face twisted in fury, his voice breaking with both pain and frustration. "A life? Do you even care that mine was almost taken last night? Look at me! I can’t walk, I can’t use my hand, and you think now’s the time to talk about your life?"
She folded her arms across her chest, standing stubbornly by the end of the bed. "And what do you expect me to do, huh? Sit here day and night, watching you groan and complain? I was out trying to breathe for once, Cardo. Not everything revolves around you!"
His voice cracked, half from anger, half from helplessness. "I nearly died, Celeste! Beaten bloody in some filthy alley, and you—my girlfriend—weren’t there. You were too busy texting or drinking or who knows what. What kind of partner leaves when the other is lying here broken?"
Celeste’s hands trembled slightly, though she tried to hide it. "And what kind of man blames his girlfriend for everything that goes wrong in his life? You’re not the only one who’s suffering, Riccardo! You go to clubs, you drink, you party, and then when it all blows up, I’m the one who has to clean your mess! Maybe I’m tired of it!"
For a moment, silence fell heavy between them, broken only by the faint beeping of the heart monitor. Riccardo’s eyes softened just a little, the anger giving way to a flicker of pain. "So you are tired of me," he muttered bitterly. "Figures. The moment I can’t stand tall, the moment I need you most, you’re already halfway out the door."
Celeste’s lips parted, but no words came out at first. She swallowed hard, her anger mixing with guilt. "That’s not what I said," she whispered finally, her voice shaky. "But I can’t keep being the only one fighting for us."
Riccardo turned his face toward the window, his jaw clenched tight, the muscles in his cheek twitching. The sunlight that filtered through the blinds cut across the bruises on his face, making them look even darker, more severe. His chest rose and fell heavily, each breath a reminder of the ribs that still ached from the beating.