I looked at the woman who had just entered the room.
For a second, my mind refused to accept what my eyes were seeing.
She looked like me.
Not exactly—but close enough that it made my chest tighten painfully. The same shape to her eyes. The same nose. Even the way she stood felt familiar, like something deeply engraved into my memory.
She was older.
Tired.
Real.
Tears welled up before I could stop them, blurring my vision completely.
"Mom…?" My voice cracked as the word left my mouth. "Is that you?"
She smiled.
That smile alone shattered whatever fragile control I had left.
She walked toward my bedside quickly, as if she'd been holding herself back this entire time. The moment she reached me, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close.
I buried my face into her chest.
She was warm.
Soft.
She smelled like lilies.
Just like I remembered.
My hands clenched into her clothes as my shoulders shook. I didn't care who was watching. I didn't care where I was. All that mattered was that she was here. That she was alive.
"I missed you," I whispered between sobs. "I really… really missed you."
Her arms tightened around me.
"Olivia," she said softly, her voice trembling. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Are you in pain?"
I shook my head quickly, tears still falling.
"No, Mom," I said, forcing a smile through them. "I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine."
It wasn't true, but I didn't want her to worry.
"I just… missed you," I added quietly. "So much."
She pulled back slightly, cupping my face in her hands. Her eyes were red, glossy with unshed tears.
"I promise," I said suddenly, my voice firm despite the ache in my chest. "I'll never leave again. Okay? Never."
She stared at me, startled.
Then she smiled again—sad and warm at the same time—and brushed my hair back gently.
Before she could say anything, the door opened.
A man walked in.
He was tall, dressed neatly, and carried himself with a confidence that filled the room instantly. His black hair was tied back into a low ponytail, his sharp features calm but distant.
I recognized him immediately.
Henry Sinclair.
The head of the Sinclair family.
My father.
The man who left my mother and married her best friend.
My body stiffened.
My mother slowly let go of my hands and turned toward him, forcing a polite smile onto her face.
"Olivia," she said gently, "I want to introduce you to someone—"
"Get out."
The words came out sharp and loud, cutting straight through the room.
Everyone froze.
My mother turned back to me, eyes wide. "Olivia, what are you doing?"
I sat up straighter, ignoring the dizziness creeping into my head.
"Mom," I said firmly, "send this man out of my ward."
Henry looked at me then.
His gaze was cold, measuring. His expression barely shifted, but there was something tight beneath it—annoyance, maybe anxiety. I couldn't tell, and I didn't care.
"You're being unreasonable," he said calmly, though his tone carried arrogance. "This is the ward I paid for. Why should I leave?"
I smiled.
Pulled the IV drip from my hand.
Pain shot through my arm as blood welled up, but I ignored it and swung my legs over the side of the bed.
Gasps filled the room.
Before I could even stand, the room spun violently. My head throbbed, my vision darkening at the edges.
I swayed.
And then—
Strong arms caught me.
My mother held me tightly, one hand supporting my back, the other gripping my arm.
She looked at Henry.
Her voice was quiet, but firm. "Leave."
Henry hesitated.
Then he turned and walked out without another word.
The moment the door shut, my body relaxed.
All the tension drained out of me at once.
My mother helped me back onto the bed, her movements careful and gentle. She tucked the blanket around me, brushing my hair back from my face like she used to.
I felt weak.
Exhausted.
My eyelids grew heavy almost immediately.
The doctor and nurse exchanged a glance, then quietly left the ward, giving us privacy.
As my eyes closed, I felt my mother's hand resting over mine.
Safe.
The last thing I remember was thinking how tired I was.
Then I fell asleep.