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  I swallowed. “Mom, I can explain.”
   “What did you do?”
    I inhaled shakily, forcing myself to say the words—
    “I got married.”
    The silence that followed was thick, suffocating.
    And then—
    She coughed violently.
    I quickly patted her back, trying to soothe her as she drank another sip of water, still struggling to process what I’d just said.
    When she finally caught her breath, her eyes locked onto mine, filled with unreadable emotion.
    “You got married?” she repeated hoarsely. “I don’t understand. Am I… am I dreaming?”
    “You’re not.”
    I held her hand tightly. “I had to, Mom. You needed the operation. I couldn’t just let you slip away.”
    She exhaled shakily, her fingers pressing against her forehead.
    “You sacrificed your happiness… for me?”
    “It’s just for six months,” I whispered. “I’ll be fine.”
    Her pained expression shattered me.
    She exhaled again, rubbing her temples, then looked at me with new seriousness.
    “Who is he?”
    I hesitated.
    “Alexander Blackwood.”
    The name hung in the air like a loaded gun.
    My mother stilled.
    For a second, it was as if she stopped breathing.
    And then, slowly, she tested the name on her lips.
    “Blackwood.”
    Her eyes darted toward the room’s surroundings, suddenly putting things together.
    “He paid for this… for my treatment?”
    “Yes.”
    She exhaled heavily, rubbing her forehead again.
    “Oh.”
    Then—something flickered in her expression as if she was trying to remember something.
    “Was he the gentleman who sat here this morning?” she asked, nodding toward the plush couch by the window.
    I stiffened. “What gentleman?”
    “When I woke up…” she murmured, gaze distant. “There was a man. Sitting right there.”
    She pointed at the couch, her fingers trembling slightly.
    “He had on a suit. He was just… sitting there. Watching me.”
    A shiver crawled up my spine.
    “Did he say anything?”
    “He said… he was here to see me.”
    “…Did he tell you his name?”
    She shook her head. “No.” Then, her lips curved slightly. “But I thought he was lovely.”
    I swallowed hard.
    My mother always thought people were lovely.
    “He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”
    Her fingers tightened around mine, worry darkening her face.
    “Tell me the truth, Isla.”
    “No, Mom. He hasn’t hurt me.”
    Her fingers remained tense around mine, as if trying to search for the truth in my face.
    I squeezed her hand gently, offering a small smile. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. But first… are you feeling okay?”
    Her shoulders relaxed slightly, her lips curling into a soft smile.
    “Oh, my dear, I feel better than I have in so long. I…” She trailed off, her expression turning unreadable. “I don’t even know what to say. I’m just… well…. Confused.”
    I nodded, but something in my chest felt tight.
    There was something I wanted to ask her—something I had never questioned before.
    My mother never had a wedding photo.
    She had never once mentioned my dad when i was little. Once, i had tried asking her about my father when i was in grade school and she had snapped at me saying he was a good for nothing man and i needed nothing to do with him.
    Yess my mom had been a very feisty woman.
    Seeing her now looking like this….
    the innocent warmth in her eyes made my throat tighten.
    I swallowed the question down.
    Not now.
    “Are you sure you’re feeling good, Mom?” I asked instead.
    She nodded. “Yes, my darling, I am.”
    Then, just as quickly, her expression fell.
    “But I feel guilty.”
    I blinked. “Guilty?”
    She looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting together.
    “I made you marry someone for my sake,” she whispered. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”
    “Mom—”
    “I should be the one protecting you.” Her voice cracked. “Not the other way around.”
    I grabbed her hands before she could spiral further. “Mom, it’s okay. It’s not something we can just… pay back.” I forced a small laugh. “It’s only six months, anyway. I’ll be fine.”
    Her lips pressed together.
    She wasn’t convinced.
    “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “If I hadn’t gotten sick, none of this—”
    “Mom, please.” I shook my head. “Don’t think like that.”
    Her shoulders slumped, and after a while, she grew drowsy again.
    I sat beside her until her breathing evened out, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before quietly slipping out of the room.
    The moment I stepped into the hallway, I exhaled deeply.
    I kept my gaze forward, walking briskly past the long, white corridors and rows of slightly open doors revealing sleeping patients 
    Until the same flash of blonde hair i’d seen while being escorted down this same path to my mom’s room caught my attention.
    It was the old frail man i’d seen whom was struggling to walk with assistance, gripping onto his stroller as he wobbled forward his bed the lady with the blonde hair crouching beside him, murmuring something softly, her perfectly manicured nails brushing against his arm as she gently encouraged him forward.
    Her outfit, a tight pair of capri pants and a fitted crop top which looked more like an indoor thing to wear than in public.
    As if on cue, she turned.
   Those dumb looking blue eyes…
    Celeste.
    The sickly sweet smile spread across her face almost instantly, her icy blue eyes twinkling with something unreadable.
    And before I could react, she closed the distance between us, extending her arms in an all-too-familiar embrace.
    “Isla!”
    Before I could step back, she wrapped her arms around me, her perfume wrapping around my senses like a thick fog.
    A kiss landed on my cheek
    My stomach churned.
    What the hell was that about?
    She pulled back, her hands still resting on my shoulders, as if we were lifelong friends or something.
    “What a surprise,” she said, voice dripping with amusement. “What are you doing here?”
    I stiffened, staring at her in disbelief. What am I doing here?
    But before I could snap back, she tilted her head, feigning innocence.
    “Oh, don’t answer that. Silly me.” She giggled. “Of course you’re here. Your husband owns this hospital, after all.”
    I froze.
    “…What?”
    She blinked at me, feigning surprise.
    Then she let out a light, airy laugh.
    “Oh dear, you didn’t know?” Her fingers brushed back a golden strand of hair as she smiled way too sweetly. “This hospital belongs to the Blackwoods.”