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“Not exactly.” She hesitated, her fingers picking at a loose thread on her shirt. “I was never truly a healer… My mother was. I tried to follow in her footsteps, but fate had other plans.”

“She had a small apothecary shop by the docks.” As she spoke, her voice took on a distant quality, as if she were seeing the place in her mind’s eye. “A lot of sailors and tradesmen would come in with their ailments—cuts that had become infected from dirty work, fevers from foreign ports, broken bones that hadn’t set right. It was a popular spot. We were lucky to be there.”

He could picture it—a small shop filled with the scent of herbs and healing oils, shelves lined with bottles and jars, a woman with Leila’s dark eyes grinding roots and mixing tinctures.

“And what of your father?”

She shifted restlessly, her shoulder pressing more firmly against his. “I never knew him. He left us when I was just a babe. Technically, my mother was still married to him all those years, but he just left one day and never returned.”

The matter-of-fact way she spoke didn’t conceal the old hurt beneath the surface.

“Bastard.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think he was a good man.”

“Obviously, he wasn’t.”

“What I mean is…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t think a man who can abandon his family on a whim would make a good father. Perhaps leaving us was the best thing he did. We were happy, my mother and I.”

Her voice was soothing and comforting. There was something hypnotic about her gentle cadence that made him want to close his eyes and simply listen. He wanted her to keep talking, to share more about the life she’d lost, this happiness that had been taken from her.

“What about your brother?”

The change in her expression was immediate. Her lips spread into a beautiful smile, and her entire face seemed to light up, years falling away until he could see the girl she must have been before the world had taken its toll.

“He was the most precious little boy. When he was born…” She paused, her smile turning mischievous. “I was surprised at how ugly he was.”

She let out a bright, musical laugh, and Gideon couldn’t help but laugh as well, even though his lungs burned and his ribs ached with the movement.

She looked at him strangely, as if in wonder. Had she never heard him laugh before? When had he last heard himself laugh? Really laugh?

He couldn’t remember.

Her smile softened as she continued, “People always tell you that babies are beautiful, but…” She wrinkled her nose, her eyes dancing with mirth. “I disagree.”

Gideon laughed again, deeper this time, not regretting the pain that accompanied it. The ache in his ribs was nothing compared to the warmth spreading through his chest. Laughter didn’t cure all wounds, but it did lift his spirits a little.

“Apologies,” Leila said, her smile fading as she noticed him wince. “I didn’t mean to make you laugh. I know it hurts.”

“I’d rather it hurt from laughing than the other thing,” he coughed out.

“I like your laugh,” she offered. “I just wish it didn’t hurt you so.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Please continue.”

Leila studied him with a worried expression, then finally gave a slight nod.

“As I said, I initially didn’t find him beautiful at all. But he was a tiny little thing…” Her voice softened, filled with fondness. “My mother was busy with the customers, and I was left to look after him. It wasn’t easy at first—I was terrified I’d drop him or hurt him somehow. It was frightening for an eleven-year-old to have this helpless little creature depending on her. But in just a few days… I came to love him. More than life itself.

“He was very active, learning to walk and talk at an early age. Always getting into everything, asking endless questions. He was the smartest little child—still is. He may not be little now, but to me, he always will be.”

“Who is his father?” Gideon asked carefully.

Leila’s expression changed instantly, the warmth draining from her features. She looked away, staring at the opposite wall.

He wished he hadn’t asked. He missed her smile already, missed the light it had brought to her face.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, her voice flat and distant. “My mother never told me, and she wasn’t being courted by anyone at the time. There wasn’t a man she was interested in.”