Chapter 160 She Knows!!

Chapter 160 She Knows!!
Sarah’s POV

“She knows.”

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. I frowned, blinking hard at my mother as she swayed on her feet, one hand gripping the back of the chair for support. Her hair hung in wild tangles, mascara carved dark rivers down her cheeks, and the sharp, sour smell of alcohol clung to her clothes.

“Mom…” My voice came out slow and careful. “What are you talking about? Of course she knows where the baby is.”

She repeated it, her voice cracking. “Zara knows everything.”

My stomach twisted into a tight knot. Beside me, Aaron stiffened, his body going rigid.

“What exactly does Zara know?” he asked, his tone low and measured.

Mom let out a sad, broken laugh and rubbed roughly at her face. “Oh God. Everything. Everything we buried. Everything we lied about.”

“Mom, stop.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “You’re drunk.”

“No.” She shook her head stubbornly, eyes glassy but fierce. “No, Sarah, listen to me.”

Her gaze snapped to Aaron. “You…” she whispered, pointing a shaky finger at him. “You should’ve never happened.”

The room fell silent. Aaron frowned. “Excuse me?”

Mom laughed again, the sound bitter and raw. “This family… God, we ruined everything.”

“Mom,” I said more firmly, exchanging a quick glance with Aaron. He looked uneasy—actually more than uneasy. His jaw was tight, eyes narrowed with concern that went deeper than the moment.

What“ does she know?” Aaron pressed again, slower this time, as if he wanted her to say something different. 

“Mrs. David… what exactly are you saying Zara knows?”

Mom opened her mouth, then closed it. She shook her head hard and backed away. “No. No, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Mom—”

“No!” Her voice cracked loudly, echoing through the quiet apartment. “I already ruined enough!”

She turned away, shoulders trembling as she breathed hard. “You think Zara is innocent?” she whispered. “You think she doesn’t know how to destroy people?”

A strange chill crawled up my spine. “What are you talking about?”

Mom turned toward me slowly. Her eyes looked haunted, hollowed out by grief and whatever she’d been drinking. “She knows. And she’s angry.”

Aaron shifted beside me. I caught the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands curled slightly at his sides, knuckles whitening. Something had clicked for him. But I shook my head, pushing the thought away.

“No.” I exhaled sharply. “Mom, you’re drunk.”

The words came easier now. Because what else could this be? Dad had just died. Zara had overdosed. Mom was clearly spiraling.

“She’s in the hospital,” I said gently, reaching for her arm. “She is unconscious and you are not making sense right now.”

Mom laughed again, but this time the bitterness cut deeper. “You still believe that girl is helpless?”

I frowned. “Mom…”

“She’s not asleep,” Mom whispered.

Aaron’s head turned sharply. “What?”

“She’s smarter than all of you,” Mom muttered, her voice trailing off. Then the tears came again—hard, wrenching sobs that shook her whole body. “I’m tired. I’m so tired.”
Exhaustion pressed down on me from every side. “Okay,” I said softly, taking her arm. “That’s enough. You need rest.”

Aaron stayed quiet—too quiet. His eyes remained fixed on her, I could tell what’s going on in his head and that unsettled me more than I wanted to admit, but I pushed it aside. Mom was drunk. Heartbroken. Talking nonsense. That had to be it.

Right?

“I need to check on Zara,” I muttered, grabbing my bag.
Aaron looked at me immediately. “I’m coming.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m coming,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I studied him for a second. “You okay?”

His expression shifted too quickly. “Yeah. I just… want to make sure everything’s fine.”

I nodded slowly. Mom had already slumped onto the couch, muttering to herself. “She knows…” she whispered again.

God. I couldn’t do this today.

The drive to the hospital was painfully quiet. Rain tapped softly against the windshield, blurring the city lights into streaks of color. Mom’s words kept replaying in my head. She knows. What exactly did Zara know? And why had Aaron suddenly looked so tense?

“You’ve been quiet,” I said eventually.
Aaron’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You don’t think your mom was making sense?”

I blinked. “What?”

“She sounded scared.”

“She’s drunk.”

“She sounded terrified.”

I sighed heavily and rubbed my forehead. “Aaron, my dad just died. Zara overdosed. My mom hasn’t slept in days. She’s grieving.”

He didn’t answer. Just kept driving, jaw clenched. I could feel it—something deeper was bothering him. And that unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

The moment we reached Zara’s room, I pushed open the door. My stomach dropped.

The bed was empty.

I froze. “What?”

Aaron stepped in behind me. “What the hell?”

The room was cleared out—no bags, no personal items, just neatly folded sheets and cold, sterile silence.

A nurse passing by paused. “Oh—Miss Sarah.”

I turned sharply. “Where’s my sister?”

The nurse blinked. “She checked herself out.”
The world tilted. “What?”

“She insisted,” the nurse explained carefully. “It is against medical to tie down someone.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, that doesn’t make sense. She was unconscious.”

“She regained consciousness early this morning,” the nurse said gently. “Signed herself out. She said she was feeling better.”

I stared, completely confused. “She left?”
The nurse nodded.

Aaron stood rigid beside me. I saw the tension in his shoulders, the frustration tightening his jaw, the flash of suspicion in his eyes.

Mom’s words echoed again. She’s not asleep.
A cold feeling crawled through my chest. This didn’t feel right.

Before I could spiral further, another voice interrupted. “Sarah?”

I turned. A doctor stood nearby, holding a file. My stomach tightened. “Is everything okay?”
His serious expression softened. “Yes. Actually… good news.”

I blinked. Good news? After everything?

He smiled. “Your baby is doing beautifully.”
Relief flooded through me so suddenly my eyes burned. I covered my mouth.

“He’s stable. Strong,” the doctor continued. “And if everything keeps progressing this well… we’ll be discharging him today.”

Everything inside me stopped.

Today?

My baby… was coming home.