Lahat ng Kabanata ng Oops.. I Fell for My Ex Again: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

Three months of normal felt stranger than six weeks of crisis ever had.For ninety days nothing dramatic had happened.No emergency calls.No late-night hospital visits.No terrifying messages from unknown numbers.Just life.Alex woke to the quiet chime of the medication tracker on her phone.She reached for it before she even opened her eyes.Morning dose – pending.She tapped the screen.The log filled automatically with yesterday’s entries.Morning ✓Evening ✓Day 133.One hundred thirty-three consecutive days of medication.Sometimes the routine felt so automatic that Alex couldn’t remember if she had given the dose five minutes ago or if she had only imagined doing it.The app prevented mistakes.Routine prevented panic.Across the hallway Catherine stirred.Twenty-seven months old now.Alex walked to her daughter’s room and pushed the door open quietly.“Mama!”Catherine sat up immediately.“Purple cup please!”Full sentences now.Polite requests.Toddler daycare had accelerate

Day 180 arrived quietly.Not with the tight-chested dread Alex had felt on Day 15.Not with the anxious anticipation of Day 43.Just a calm, steady awareness that something important had been reached.Six months.One hundred eighty days of medication.One hundred eighty mornings measuring applesauce and dissolving propranolol.One hundred eighty nights checking Catherine’s breathing before bed.What had once felt like a desperate experiment had become routine.Alex opened the medication tracker on her phone.Day 180 — Morning dose pending.The number made her pause.Half a year.Catherine had grown so much in that time.From a cautious toddler barely stringing two words together to a confident little person who narrated her entire life.From fragile uncertainty to a rhythm that finally felt… sustainable.Down the hall Catherine stirred.A moment later small footsteps padded across the floor.“Mama!”Alex looked up just in time for Catherine to climb onto the bed.Hair wild from sleep.

Alex didn’t sleep much that night.The message from Anthropic BioSolutions replayed in her mind over and over.Phase 2 recruitment has begun.The words carried a weight she couldn’t ignore.Phase 1 meant proof of concept.Phase 2 meant something different.Scale.More patients.More data.Closer to approval.Closer to becoming a treatment that hospitals might offer without secrecy or persuasion.Which meant something else too.Anthropic didn’t need Catherine the way they had six months ago.If they had ten successful patients already, they could move forward without her.And yet…They were still watching.Alex lay awake until dawn, staring at the ceiling while Dominic slept beside her.Eventually she slipped out of bed and walked quietly to Catherine’s room.Her daughter was sprawled across the mattress sideways, Ellie half hanging off the bed.Alex gently adjusted the blanket.Catherine murmured in her sleep.The small rise and fall of her chest felt like the most important rhythm in

Alex didn’t sleep that night.She sat on the couch with her laptop open, the house quiet, the cursor blinking on an empty page. She had started writing three different times and deleted all of it.Every version sounded wrong.Too emotional. Too careful. Too defensive.She closed her eyes for a second, then started again.This time, she didn’t try to sound like anything.She just wrote.She wrote about Catherine. Not the diagnosis, not the genetics, not the terminology people liked to use.Her daughter.Morning routines. Applesauce and medicine. The purple cup that no other cup could replace. The way Catherine sang while playing like she had her own little world.Then she wrote about the parts no one saw.The decisions. The pressure. The quiet ways companies positioned themselves as solutions before you even understood the problem.She paused.Stared at the screen.Then added one line:My daughter is not a case study. She is not a trial candidate. She is not a story for anyone else to

​Alex woke up before her alarm.​For a moment, everything felt normal.​Quiet house. Early light filtering through the curtains. The soft hum of the refrigerator downstairs.​Then she remembered.​The letter.​The car.​The word control.​She sat up slowly, reaching for her phone on the nightstand.​No missed calls.​Two new emails.​One from a journalist.​One from GeneCor again.​She didn’t open either.​Not yet.​Instead, she got out of bed and walked to the window.​The car was still there.​Parked in the same spot as last night.​Same angle.​Same dark tint on the windows.​It wasn’t a neighbor.​Alex stood there for a few seconds, just watching it.​Waiting for movement.​Nothing.​She pulled the curtain closed.​Catherine was already awake.​Alex could hear her talking to herself down the hall, a steady stream of half-formed sentences and made-up stories.​“Ellie no sit there… no, here… yes, good job…”​Alex stepped into the doorway.​Catherine sat cross-legged on the floor, ca