One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 166: Chapter 166
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The sun had barely risen when Damien's voice pierced the kitchen walls.
“You want to drop out of the pre-med track?”
Micah stood at the counter, arms crossed, trying hard not to flinch. “I never wanted it in the first place.”
Damien’s jaw clenched. “You’re seventeen. You haven’t even tried.”
“I’ve tried plenty. I’ve tried being the perfect son. The responsible one. The overachiever. But none of that is me, Dad.”
Arielle entered, quietly placing a mug of tea between them like a peace offering.
Micah didn’t touch it.
“I want to work with wildlife. I want to travel. Study animal behavior. Volunteer. Document endangered species. Be out in the world, not locked in a hospital.”
Damien’s face darkened. “That’s not a career. That’s a fantasy.”
Micah’s voice cracked. “Then maybe I’m a fantasy to you, too.”
He grabbed his bag, stormed out the door before anyone could say another word.
Hours passed.
The silence in the house was thick and accusing.
Arielle tried Micah’s phone. Straight to voicemail. The group chats buzzed with half-worried, half-confused texts from siblings.
By dusk, concern turned to dread.
Arielle went searching.
Not to the mall or his friends’ places. Not to the bus station. She drove instead to the outskirts of town, to the grove behind the old library—where the trees still held echoes of giggles, hide-and-seek victories, and secret picnics.
She found him at the base of the giant oak, nestled between its roots like he had been when he was seven. His backpack was his pillow. His hoodie was streaked with leaves.
Arielle didn’t speak right away.
She just sat down beside him.
Micah didn’t look at her.
“I hate him,” he muttered.
“No, you don’t,” she replied softly.
“I hate who he wants me to be.”
Arielle exhaled. “That’s fair.”
They sat in the quiet, wind moving gently through the branches above.
“Do you remember this spot?” she asked.
Micah nodded. “You brought me here when I didn’t make the swim team. Said I could scream if I needed to.”
“And did you?”
“I did. Till my voice gave out.”
“And what did I do?”
“You held me till I stopped shaking.”
Arielle turned to him. “You can scream again if you need to.”
Micah didn’t scream. But he did cry.
Big, silent sobs that wracked his body.
She wrapped her arms around him like the roots of the tree they sat under—grounded, ancient, and firm.
“I feel like I’m failing him,” Micah said finally. “No matter what I do.”
“You’re not failing anyone,” Arielle whispered. “You’re just becoming someone new. And sometimes, that feels like breaking.”
“I just want to live my own life. Why is that so hard for him to understand?”
“Because he’s scared. That you’ll struggle. That you’ll regret it. That he won’t know how to protect you from a world he doesn’t understand.”
“But you get it.”
“I do. Because I remember what it was like to dream of something everyone thought was ridiculous.”
Micah looked at her. “What did you dream of?”
She smiled. “Telling stories. Traveling. Being more than a title. And now I’m a mother to eight wild, brilliant, stubborn children. And I’ve lived more stories than I could’ve written.”
They drove back in silence.
Damien was waiting in the living room. Hands clasped. Eyes heavy.
Micah didn’t stop walking.
But Arielle paused in front of her husband.
“You don’t have to agree with his dreams,” she said. “But you don’t get to break his spirit either.”
Damien closed his eyes. “I just want him to be safe.”
“Then be his anchor, not his cage.”
That night, a quiet knock came at Micah’s door.
It opened slowly.
Damien stepped inside, holding something wrapped in brown paper.
“I found this in the garage,” he said. “From my college days.”
Micah opened it.
A wildlife journal. Handwritten. Faded sketches of birds and tracks and notes in a younger Damien’s script.
“I didn’t always want to be a surgeon,” Damien said. “But I chose it. And it became my life. You have that right, too.”
Micah blinked back new tears.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Damien nodded. “Go chase what sets you on fire.”
And for the first time in weeks, they saw each other.
Not as father and son in battle.
But as two men—dreamers, both—standing at the edge of new beginnings.
“You want to drop out of the pre-med track?”
Micah stood at the counter, arms crossed, trying hard not to flinch. “I never wanted it in the first place.”
Damien’s jaw clenched. “You’re seventeen. You haven’t even tried.”
“I’ve tried plenty. I’ve tried being the perfect son. The responsible one. The overachiever. But none of that is me, Dad.”
Arielle entered, quietly placing a mug of tea between them like a peace offering.
Micah didn’t touch it.
“I want to work with wildlife. I want to travel. Study animal behavior. Volunteer. Document endangered species. Be out in the world, not locked in a hospital.”
Damien’s face darkened. “That’s not a career. That’s a fantasy.”
Micah’s voice cracked. “Then maybe I’m a fantasy to you, too.”
He grabbed his bag, stormed out the door before anyone could say another word.
Hours passed.
The silence in the house was thick and accusing.
Arielle tried Micah’s phone. Straight to voicemail. The group chats buzzed with half-worried, half-confused texts from siblings.
By dusk, concern turned to dread.
Arielle went searching.
Not to the mall or his friends’ places. Not to the bus station. She drove instead to the outskirts of town, to the grove behind the old library—where the trees still held echoes of giggles, hide-and-seek victories, and secret picnics.
She found him at the base of the giant oak, nestled between its roots like he had been when he was seven. His backpack was his pillow. His hoodie was streaked with leaves.
Arielle didn’t speak right away.
She just sat down beside him.
Micah didn’t look at her.
“I hate him,” he muttered.
“No, you don’t,” she replied softly.
“I hate who he wants me to be.”
Arielle exhaled. “That’s fair.”
They sat in the quiet, wind moving gently through the branches above.
“Do you remember this spot?” she asked.
Micah nodded. “You brought me here when I didn’t make the swim team. Said I could scream if I needed to.”
“And did you?”
“I did. Till my voice gave out.”
“And what did I do?”
“You held me till I stopped shaking.”
Arielle turned to him. “You can scream again if you need to.”
Micah didn’t scream. But he did cry.
Big, silent sobs that wracked his body.
She wrapped her arms around him like the roots of the tree they sat under—grounded, ancient, and firm.
“I feel like I’m failing him,” Micah said finally. “No matter what I do.”
“You’re not failing anyone,” Arielle whispered. “You’re just becoming someone new. And sometimes, that feels like breaking.”
“I just want to live my own life. Why is that so hard for him to understand?”
“Because he’s scared. That you’ll struggle. That you’ll regret it. That he won’t know how to protect you from a world he doesn’t understand.”
“But you get it.”
“I do. Because I remember what it was like to dream of something everyone thought was ridiculous.”
Micah looked at her. “What did you dream of?”
She smiled. “Telling stories. Traveling. Being more than a title. And now I’m a mother to eight wild, brilliant, stubborn children. And I’ve lived more stories than I could’ve written.”
They drove back in silence.
Damien was waiting in the living room. Hands clasped. Eyes heavy.
Micah didn’t stop walking.
But Arielle paused in front of her husband.
“You don’t have to agree with his dreams,” she said. “But you don’t get to break his spirit either.”
Damien closed his eyes. “I just want him to be safe.”
“Then be his anchor, not his cage.”
That night, a quiet knock came at Micah’s door.
It opened slowly.
Damien stepped inside, holding something wrapped in brown paper.
“I found this in the garage,” he said. “From my college days.”
Micah opened it.
A wildlife journal. Handwritten. Faded sketches of birds and tracks and notes in a younger Damien’s script.
“I didn’t always want to be a surgeon,” Damien said. “But I chose it. And it became my life. You have that right, too.”
Micah blinked back new tears.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Damien nodded. “Go chase what sets you on fire.”
And for the first time in weeks, they saw each other.
Not as father and son in battle.
But as two men—dreamers, both—standing at the edge of new beginnings.
End of One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- Chapter 166. Continue reading Chapter 167 or return to One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- book page.