Chapter Text
A typical day for Harvey Specter was all about control.
Every morning started at 5:30 AM, with a black coffee and a boxing session — not to stay fit, but to stay ahead — and, fine, also because watching women swoon over his body when he took them home at night brought him a few fleeting seconds of satisfaction. Then came the cold shower, the tailored suit, Rolex on the wrist, and a cocky glance in the mirror that said, yeah, you're going to crush it again today. By 7:30, he walked through the doors of Pearson Hardman like he owned the building. He wasn't a senior partner yet — not yet, after all, it had only been three short years since he'd left the DA’s office — but everyone knew it was coming. He worked for Jessica, landed impossible clients, and argued cases with the kind of swagger that made judges look like extras. Win after win, without stopping.
Like every day, almost seven days a week, his morning flew by in a blur of hard-hitting negotiations, sarcastic laughs, and contracts so sharply drafted they could draw blood. He wasn’t one to ask for things twice — he got them — always. Lunch? Rare. Or maybe a quick whiskey with a billionaire client, or a bagel from the cart downstairs — the one time he loosened his tie and almost looked like he had a somewhat normal life. And then… there was Louis Litt. Harvey was coming out of a meeting with Jessica when he spotted him, crouched in front of the microwave in the break room, staring at his organic-labeled lunchbox like it held top-secret NASA intel. With a few minutes to kill, he walked over to the almost-bald man, leaned against the counter, and exhaled.
« You think staring at it makes it go faster? I’m genuinely curious »
Louis spun around in a heartbeat, face tomato-red, fumbling for a retort before muttering in a less-than-confident voice.
« Very funny, Specter. I’ve got a hearing in an hour, in case that interests you. A real case. Not a shampoo commercial starring your hair »
Harvey smirked, crossed his arms, and purposefully eyed the top of Louis’s head — especially the thinning spot — before murmuring, arrogantly as ever.
« You mean… a hearing in front of a real judge? Not your cat? That’s something. Congrats, Louis »
Louis scowled, slammed the microwave shut, and stood up without meeting Harvey’s eyes, muttering through gritted teeth.
« I won’t let you distract me. Not this time »
« Oh, Louis… It’s not me distracting you. It’s your pathological need for recognition. One day, you’ll buy a mirror and understand why you don’t get it »
As always, Harvey left him there, grumbling in a corner, whispering legal threats that might’ve impressed his office cactus at best. Truthfully, Harvey didn’t really know why he kept doing it — sure, messing with Louis amused him, the guy’s innocent earnestness was even kind of cute — but it wasn’t just that. There was something about Louis’s unshakable joy, his constant enthusiasm, like everything still amazed him while for Harvey, happiness was fleeting. He never really felt satisfied — except maybe in superficial things. Well, there had been someone once, and something that felt close to happiness… but in the blink of an eye, it vanished again. In a second, he brushed off the thought and headed to his office to pour himself a glass of scotch.
The afternoon unfolded with sealed deals, assistants too nervous to knock, and phone calls he dragged out just long enough to make his opponents think they had a chance. Then, as expected, around eight, Harvey packed up — not because he was done, but because he’d already won — the rest could wait until tomorrow. His day had gone like any other, and his night would be no different — or so he thought. He snapped his briefcase shut, already past the planned time to leave as the floor was emptying, a few lights still glowed in Legal, but Pearson Hardman had mostly fallen into the hush of night. Just as he was about to step out of his office, a voice called out behind him.
« You got two minutes for me, or are you off to save the world? »
Jessica Pearson — flawless as ever, sculpted silhouette, sharp calm — walked in without waiting for permission, like the office belonged to her, which, in a way, it did. Immediately, Harvey gave her a knowing smile, murmuring.
« If this is another round of praise for yesterday’s win, I guess I can stay one more minute »
« You obliterated an entire firm singlehandedly. The client called this morning. He thinks you’re either a genius… or a demon. He wasn’t sure which »
Harvey shrugged, faux modest, shooting her that trademark arrogant grin.
« Why not both? »
Jessica paused, her smile fading — barely, but enough for Harvey to know this wasn’t a casual drop-in — she was here for something serious and he’d learn soon enough.
« You’re playing too close to the edge, Harvey. Taking risks I don’t approve of. Maneuvers that flirt with illegal. And yesterday… you crossed a line »
He frowned, not ready to back down, not ready to yield even an inch.
« I do what it takes to win. That’s why you hired me, isn’t it? »
« No. I hired you because you’re brilliant. Not suicidal »
Her tone was sharp, and silence fell between them as Harvey looked away, leaning against his desk, hands buried in his pockets. Jessica noticed how tight his jaw had become as her voice softened.
« Want to tell me what’s going on? Because this… this isn’t you. Not really »
« What are you talking about, Jessica? I’ve always been like this »
« Not this borderline, Harvey »
His gaze hardened, a shadow flickering across his face as he forced a smile, muttering with hollow confidence.
« I’m fine, Jessica »
« You work all hours. You refuse to delegate. You insist on taking every hit yourself. And it’s starting to look like… like you’re hoping for one to land. Like you want to be hit back. Who are you punishing, Harvey? »
He faltered — just for a second, but enough for Jessica to catch it in his eyes. A weight. A guilt. A ghost. And then, as always, the concern vanished behind a mask: the arrogant smile, the self-assured gaze, the lifted chin. Ready to take on the world.
« Oh come on, Jessica — just a busy week »
Jessica stared at him, long and hard as she knew he wouldn’t say anything, not tonight, maybe not ever. So she took a step back, adjusted her blazer, and said gently.
« Then get some rest. And don’t lose yourself in the process »
« Always » he replied, not believing it.
« Good night, Harvey »
He didn’t look at her when he answered — too focused on controlling his breathing, his collar suddenly tight against his throat as it took everything in him to force out those two simple words.
« Good night, Jessica »
Jessica left the room without another word, her heels striking the marble floor in a steady, familiar rhythm — then fading, swallowed by the distance and thick walls of Pearson Hardman. When the silence finally settled, Harvey allowed himself to move. Slowly, he rounded his desk, quietly opened the polished wooden compartment, and poured himself a glass of scotch — the second in barely three hours, even though the sun hadn’t yet finished dying over the New York skyline. He wasn’t drinking to celebrate — not tonight. He drank to silence the hundred thoughts racing through his mind, while the amber liquid swirled in the glass like a promise. He raised it to his lips without trembling, downed it in one, and turned toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city stretched before him — vibrant, loud, ruthless, a bit like him — but even that, tonight, wasn’t enough to distract him.
Jessica was right — of course she was. He flirted with the line every single day. He tested boundaries, rules, people — not out of thrill, but something darker, something more broken. He needed danger — not for the adrenaline, but for the punishment. Every time he brushed scandal, risked suspension, felt his license hang by a thread or imagined being disbarred… he felt a strange kind of relief. As if, finally, the sentence had come. As if someone outside himself was confirming what he had known deep down all along. That he deserved it. As twisted as it sounded, the only time Harvey felt truly in place was when he was about to lose everything because deep down, Harvey Specter had always felt like a coward. He was, the day he kept his mother’s secret, lying to his father, swallowing the truth in exchange for some fragile illusion of peace. He was, when he fled Boston, walking out on Marcus — his little brother — without a word, no note, no explanation. Disappearing had just been easier than staying. But nothing — nothing — compared to what he did almost three years ago, the one thing he’d sworn he’d never do.
Well, in truth, he’d never even needed to swear it — he never thought himself capable of such betrayal. As the memory of that final conversation came flooding back, he poured himself another glass, downed it just as fast, trying to drown both anger and despair in the scotch. He was about to pour a third when there was a knock at the door — once, then again — more hesitant this time as Harvey sighed, rolled his eyes without turning around, and muttered softly.
« Jessica, I already told you I’m fine »
No answer — which annoyed him more as he was forced to turn, just slightly tipsy… and then he saw her — and his breath caught in his throat.
Donna.
Three years — three fucking years — and there she was. Standing in the doorway like a memory that came back too early… or too late. She was still stunning — beautiful and breathtaking, if Harvey allowed himself the thought. That effortless beauty, that natural presence he had yet to find in any other woman in his life. Her red hair was pulled up in a messy bun, like she was tired or in a hurry, and she wore an oversized olive-green sweater, probably to fight off the evening chill. But the thing that hit him… was her eyes. Usually so bright, sharp, even playfully mocking — tonight they were dulled. Heavy. Puffy. Eyes that had cried — a lot, maybe for hours. And when she opened her mouth, her voice was barely a breath.
« Hey »
One word — and Harvey felt his entire world tilt.
Seeing her standing there, Harvey was instantly thrown three years back, reliving the moment everything had changed — the dumbest, most painful, yet somehow most rational decision he’d ever made. Or so he told himself. Or so he’d been telling himself every day since.
Three weeks. That’s how long it had been since they slept together — for the first and only time. Three weeks of thinking about it every day, about her soft skin, her sharp gasps, her hair slipping between his fingers every time he closed his eyes. Three weeks of pretending everything was fine… when he’d never thought more in his life. They’d both acted like it was nothing, just a moment, and yet, it had changed him. Changed her too — he knew it — even if neither of them had the courage to say it. He did what he always did: rationalized, controlled and two days later, he’d invited her to a Midtown café, made her an offer to join Pearson Hardman. Officially, because he didn’t want to find out what kind of lawyer he was without her. Unofficially, because he didn’t want to lose her.
Donna had smiled — tried to, anyway — as he could see she’d expected something… else. But she accepted and everything seemed neat, contained, until the night before her first day.
Can you come over tonight? Just… for a bit. I need to talk to you.
He went, unsuspecting, but the second he saw her face, he knew something was wrong. Her eyes — red. Her hands — clenched around a half-empty mug. He was instantly worried — Donna not being okay was more painful than anything else. So he sat her down on the couch, took a seat across from her, hands wrapped around hers — a rare gesture of intimacy since they slept together as he whispered.
« Donna? What’s going on? »
She didn’t answer at first — the silence stretching — as he could hear nothing but the ridiculous ticking of the wall clock, watching her lower lip tremble just slightly, which made his panic worse. Then she took a deep breath, looked up at him, and with a voice far less sure than the Donna he knew, she whispered.
« I took a test »
She didn’t need to say more — he knew. The way she twisted her fingers anxiously, the way her knee bounced with nervous energy, and most of all… the way she looked down at her stomach. The ground fell from beneath him as she finally said the words.
« I’m pregnant, Harvey »
In a fraction of a second, the room filled with the kind of silence that suffocates. That weighs. He didn’t move. His face froze, but his eyes said it all — panic, fear, as Donna gave a sad, almost resigned smile. And when he didn’t speak, she rushed to fill the silence, her voice trembling just enough.
« It wasn’t planned. It was an accident. I swear I didn’t think I could get pregnant, and I’m not telling you this to trap you. I’ve thought about it — a lot. I’m going to be okay. I want this. But you… »
She looked down, her voice shaking but sincere while she took a deep breath, glancing at him as if afraid he’d leave before she could finish the sentence.
« If you want to walk away, I won’t blame you, Harvey. You don’t have to stay. This isn’t your fight unless you want it to be — I promise it’s okay »
Harvey said nothing — not a word — as he just stood. Slowly, movements mechanical, running on autopilot as she watched him in silence — maybe hoping, maybe fearing — and he walked out. He left — like a thief, like a coward — because in that moment, standing there, paralyzed, he was flooded with his own past. His father. His mother. The silence of Sundays. The years where love drowned in things left unsaid. He pictured himself as a father — and the image chilled him. Not because he didn’t want to love… but because he was sure he didn’t know how to do anything but destroy. He saw himself as poison — slow, quiet, only noticed when it was too late. So he walked away — not out of fear, he told himself — but sacrifice because by disappearing, he gave the child a chance. A normal life. A strong mother. A home without fear. A future where they’d never have to wonder if their father would ruin everything.
Now, standing before him, Donna looked the same — and yet not. The sadness and panic in her eyes mirrored the ones from that night… but they weren’t quite the same. And Harvey — completely still — felt every emotion crash into him, unable to let a single one show. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said softly.
« I need your help »
The silence stretched.
Just a few seconds, but they echoed like an eternity in the hushed office as Harvey said nothing, unable to form a coherent thought, and Donna… she lowered her eyes. She no longer looked at him, as if seeing him standing there in front of her was enough to rip open every wound and then, in a trembling but controlled voice, she began to explain.
« At birth, they didn’t see anything. Everything looked normal and even at the first check-ups, everything seemed fine. They said it was benign, that it would go away, you know… those reassuring, textbook speeches. And yet… I couldn’t calm down. Maybe it was stupid — just a feeling — but something felt wrong. I don’t know… an intuition. A worry that never left me. Even when everyone told me I was overreacting »
She trailed off into her thoughts for a moment, her gaze distant, as if she were talking more to herself than to him. Harvey frowned, his throat tightening suddenly, his voice raspier than he would’ve liked as he murmured softly.
« I… I’m not sure I understand, Donna »
She looked up, and this time, he saw something other than fear in her eyes: exhaustion, urgency — and with a voice filled with suppressed sobs, she whispered softly, her pain clearly audible in her tone.
« The doctors think she has a heart condition. And I need you to get genetic testing »
Harvey remained frozen, stone-faced, while his brain struggled to process the information — but his body was already reacting. A familiar, unbearable pressure clamped down on his chest, his breathing became shorter, choppier, as the early waves of a panic attack he knew too well started to creep in. But he didn’t move, he took it, as he always had. Donna had stepped closer, with that painful gentleness he remembered, and in a trembling gesture, she handed him a small card as he took it without even looking.
« It’s pretty urgent. That’s the cardiologist handling everything. You can call tomorrow to make an appointment, and… if you have questions, or if you just want to talk… I haven’t changed my number »
He didn’t say anything, his throat too tight to let anything out, so he simply nodded while Donna looked at him a few seconds longer, maybe hoping for a word, a gesture — but nothing came. So she turned on her heels and, without a sound, walked out. But in the silence that followed, it wasn’t her footsteps Harvey heard echoing in his head — it was her sobs. The ones she had held back. The ones she might have cried for hours before coming. The ones he would never be able to forget. He stood there for a few seconds too long, eyes blank, the cardiologist’s card clenched between his fingers like a blade and then suddenly, the air seemed to vanish from the room. His lungs closed up, his heart rate skyrocketed, erratic, as the world around him blurred and buzzed. His hands were shaking. Cold sweat dripped down his neck. He staggered.
He left his office without even realizing he was moving, walking like a ghost through the empty halls of Pearson Hardman. Reaching the restroom, he collapsed to his knees in front of the sink, then tipped over toward the toilet. He vomited violently, his body convulsing, unable to hold anything down and when it was over, he stayed there, arms braced against the cold porcelain, breath wheezing, unable to lift his head. Everything spun. Donna. The test. The silence. Her face three years ago — red, devastated — and now, today, trembling, desperate. He couldn’t even bring himself to say the word girl — or even daughter — in his head — it made him nauseous. It wasn’t abstract anymore, it wasn’t a choice or an escape — it was real, flesh and blood, a fragile heart. He had left her — the person he loved most — pregnant, alone, and terrified. He had convinced himself that walking away was protecting her, but it had only been cowardice, pure and raw.
And now… he was learning that she — their child — might be suffering from something he had passed on. A disease that had maybe been there, silently, in her tiny heart since birth. And he hadn’t been there to watch her grow up, hadn’t been there to take her to the doctor, to hear her laugh, to wipe her tears — three years — three fucking years. She must be around two and a half now — and so small, she was already sick, while Harvey didn’t even know the color of her eyes, or even her name. After a few minutes, he got up slowly, rinsed his mouth with cold water, trying to calm himself, but the guilt clung to him — sticky, inescapable, crawling under his skin. This wasn’t just a past mistake, it was a living pain, beating with the same heart as that little girl, somewhere in New York, whom he knew nothing about — except that she was in danger, and it might be his fault.
That night, Harvey returned home without even remembering the ride. The driver may have spoken — or maybe not — he couldn’t say. He crossed his apartment without turning on the lights, collapsed on the couch, and didn’t move all night. Not a second of sleep, not a blink — just him, alone, in the dark, staring at the small white card lying on the coffee table in front of him. The doctor’s name looped in his head, burned into his memory and at exactly 7 a.m., his fingers trembling, he dialed the number, his eyes burning from lack of sleep as after three rings, a clear, slightly tired female voice answered.
« Dr. Istrefi’s office, good morning »
Harvey swallowed, eyes still locked on the card, and murmured softly:
« Good morning, this is Harvey Specter. I… I’m calling because… »
He stopped, unable to finish — to say what he was — the father, the biological donor, the coward, the repentant bastard — nothing came out. So silence settled between them, until the doctor, as if he had guessed, said gently.
« You’re Aida’s father? Miss Paulsen said you might call this morning »
Harvey’s stomach clenched violently — Aida — the name hit like a brutal slap as he had never heard it, never spoken it, and yet, it was suddenly alive inside him, painfully obvious. So, in a strangled voice, he replied.
« Yes »
« Very well. We need your genetic tests to complete the file and understand the likely cause of her condition. We can see you today at 3 p.m. if that works for you? »
« I’ll be there »
« Thank you, Mr. Specter. And… thank you for calling. Aida needs us to move quickly »
« Of course… See you later »
He hung up and barely had time to set the phone down before another wave of anxiety hit him. He ran to the bathroom, fell to his knees, and vomited again — for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. He had just heard it — her name — Aida, four little letters that ripped through him. He had a daughter and he was a stranger to her. And maybe, just maybe… the one who had passed on the disease eating away at her heart. Shaken and clearly at the end of his rope, Harvey stood like a machine. Scalding shower, perfectly tailored suit, tie knotted effortlessly, black coffee, no milk — everything followed clinical precision, but with no meaning, no thoughts, just motion. He arrived at the office before eight, as always, walked the halls without a word, and entered his office without pausing, eyes averted.
« Sleep well, Specter? »
Louis was by the coffee machine, smirking, ready to be unpleasant but Harvey barely slowed down, offering only a flat yes in response — and, surprisingly, Louis didn’t pursue it. No snide comment, no reference to last night, just silence and a frown that Harvey didn’t even notice. Jessica, however, missed nothing as she watched from down the hall, arms crossed. Once Louis walked away, she approached, calm but direct.
« What’s going on? » she asked.
« Nothing » he replied, without even looking at her.
« Harvey, you lie as badly as you drink your whiskey when you think no one’s watching »
He tensed but didn’t respond. Then turned and walked away, fast, while Jessica followed without hesitation, up to the rooftop door. She found him there, alone, leaning on the railing, hands clenched as she called his name several times, but he stayed silent. Finally, in a rough, broken voice, he muttered.
« I’m a fucking coward, Jessica »
She stopped cold, startled by the intensity, then moved a little closer, murmuring softly.
« What? »
« And life… life is getting its revenge »
« What are you talking about? »
He took a deep breath, long and shaky, then closed his eyes and spoke in a trembling voice.
« Remember that secretary I wanted to hire, three years ago? Donna »
« Yes. You didn’t want to come without her. Then you showed up alone »
« The night before she was supposed to start, she asked me to come to her place. Her eyes were red. She… she told me she was pregnant »
Jessica said nothing, just stepped back slightly, the pieces starting to click into place. As Harvey ran a hand down his face, Jessica sighed — knowing her protégé well enough to imagine what came next as she whispered.
« And you left »
Harvey nodded, a tear rolling down his cheek, left untouched as he stared out at the New York skyline, continuing in a trembling voice, the rest making clear it was worse than Jessica had imagined.
« She gave me an out. I got up and walked away. Like a coward. Like my father did every time he went on tour, all those times I hated him for leaving — and I did the exact same thing. But I thought I was doing the right thing, I swear. And now she’s back and… »
He took a deep breath, wiped away more tears that had slipped through, then turned to his mentor, jaw clenched, the words escaping as if saying them would make it all too real.
« And the baby — the little girl — she has a heart condition. A fucking congenital defect, and it’s probably genetic… probably my fault »
Jessica stepped back — no more mask, no more poker face — just silent fear in her eyes, a mix of sadness and pain for her protégé who, at that moment, looked utterly lost and broken.
« Harvey »
But he looked away, ashamed, broken, before continuing, more to himself than to her, as his voice trembled more with each word.
« You want to know why I take ridiculous risks all the time? Why I almost let Tanner get me disbarred last week? Because I need to pay. Because I need it to hurt. Because I’ve been the worst version of myself, and someone that innocent might suffer for it their whole life — because of my choices, because of me »
Silence fell, thick and heavy, as Jessica said nothing. She simply stepped closer, gently placed a hand on his arm, squeezing softly, and murmured.
« Then start by not running anymore »
Harvey stayed on the roof long after Jessica had left, frozen in place, trying to regain control. When he finally came back down, he threw himself into work, powering through task after task, mechanically, without focus, but nothing helped. The idea of Aida — that name he couldn’t stop hearing in his head — was twisting his gut into knots. By late afternoon, unable to hold on any longer, he left the firm without a word, got into his car, and headed toward the medical office, the pit in his stomach growing with every block. Every heartbeat screamed what he still refused to fully admit: he had a daughter, and she might be sick because of him. Harvey arrived at the clinic, shoulders tight, face closed off and as soon as he gave his name, a nurse invited him to wait, while minutes later, a woman in a white coat opened the door and looked at him with a smile that tried to be reassuring.
« Mr. Specter? »
He stood and followed the doctor into a bright little office. The cardiologist — in her composed fifties — gestured for him to sit across from her, eyeing him with a serious, professional look as she talked.
« Thank you for coming. Donna let me know you might reach out »
Harvey gave a small nod, unable to speak, while the doctor continued calmly, offering the same explanations she likely would have given to Donna — as if both adults shared an equal role in the child’s life. When, in reality, he knew nothing.
« Aida has shown some signs — cyanosis at times, shortness of breath during exertion. Nothing too obvious at first, but your — I mean, Donna showed remarkable intuition — that’s what prompted the initial exams. Right now, we suspect a congenital heart defect. It could be a patent ductus arteriosus, but there are other possibilities. We won’t be able to confirm anything without a full genetic analysis, and that’s where you come in »
She handed him a sheet listing the tests to be done — blood work, DNA analysis, family history — as Harvey nodded, still mute. Seeing how lost he was, the doctor softened her tone, searching for simple words — not because he couldn’t understand, but because emotionally, it was all too much.
« Once we have your results, we’ll be able to refine the diagnosis. It’s possible it’s something more complex — like a hereditary coarctation of the aorta, Tetralogy of Fallot, or hypertrophic obstructive cardiomyopathy — but we won’t speculate without the data »
Harvey nodded again, his stomach in knots as none of those conditions meant anything to him, but they terrified him more than anything ever had. He didn’t even know what they were — all he knew was that they were talking about his daughter — the baby he had already condemned once by sleeping with Donna, and then again by running away like a coward. He thanked the cardiologist in a low, nearly absent voice, then quickly left the office as no sooner had he stepped outside than he called his own doctor and demanded an immediate appointment. Less than an hour later, he stepped into the private clinic he hadn’t visited in months and without waiting for a single question, he handed over the documents the cardiologist had given him. His doctor, a man used to the urgency of wealthy, high-profile patients, furrowed his brow as he read through the papers.
« Is this serious, Harvey? » he asked, a little surprised at his agitated state.
« Can you do the tests today? Everything. Right now. I’ll pay whatever it takes, just get it to the lab within the hour »
The doctor didn’t argue. He had known Harvey long enough to see that this wasn’t just business-as-usual and without asking more, he led him through the necessary bloodwork, DNA tests — everything required. Thirty minutes later, Harvey had paid the full bill, adding a substantial bonus to speed things along as the doctor promised to flag the urgency with their partner lab. Harvey went home, drained, nerves frayed to the breaking point. He slept only in broken fragments that night, haunted by the face he’d never seen — Aida’s face — and the suffocating fear that, without knowing it, he had condemned the child who was biologically his to a life of suffering. The next morning, barely past dawn in New York, his phone buzzed on the coffee table and seeing an unknown number, his heart jumped as he picked up.
« Mr. Specter? This is Dr. Istrefi. I received your results, and I believe we need to talk »
Harvey didn’t waste a second.
He grabbed his jacket, slammed his apartment door without even checking if he had his keys, and flagged the first cab he saw as the clinic address was already burned into his memory, and yet the ride felt endless. Every red light, every horn, every passing minute without answers was another knife to the gut. When he reached Dr. Istrefi’s office, he jumped out without waiting for change, ran up the steps two at a time, pushed through the glass door… and saw her. Donna was there, sitting in the waiting room, upright, hands clasped on her knees. She stood as soon as she saw him — a little stiff, like she didn’t yet know how to be around him — and Harvey froze. Her presence stole the breath from his lungs as he had expected to face the truth alone, like some personal punishment. But of course she was there — it was her daughter, too.
« You… » he began, then stopped. Donna nodded softly.
« The doctor called me too. He wanted us both to hear the results »
He said nothing — just nodded — and followed her. The doctor’s office was quiet, almost too quiet, with soft light filtering through the window as Dr. Istrefi motioned for them to sit, a tablet in hand, and spoke gently.
« Thank you both for coming. I got the results last night, and after comparing them with Aida’s clinical exams, I now have a clearer idea of what we’re dealing with »
A heavy silence fell, thick as stone, before the doctor continued.
« Aida has a condition known as Tetralogy of Fallot. It’s a congenital heart defect — relatively rare, but well documented. It combines four structural abnormalities in the heart, which explains her symptoms »
Harvey felt the floor vanish beneath him — Tetralogy of Fallot — the words hung in the air like a sentence as Donna didn’t look away from the doctor, but her jaw trembled and her eyes brimmed with tears.
« She’ll need surgery as soon as possible. She’s still young, which works in her favor and yes, it’s a complex procedure, but success rates are high when it’s done early enough »
Harvey couldn’t hear anymore, the words floated around him, distorted, drowned in a low hum as the image of a small, fragile heart — his daughter’s heart — hit him like a suffocating blow. Donna said nothing either, frozen in place, crushed by painful silence.
And in that too-white, too-quiet room, Harvey understood that nothing would ever be the same again.