Chapter 159

Chapter 159
Sienna's POV

Game day arrived gray and cold, with the kind of winter sky that made everything look muted and uncertain. I sat in Hayes's private box at Behemoth Stadium, surrounded by the energy of sixty thousand screaming fans, but I felt disconnected from it all, as if I were watching everything through thick glass.

Hayes was magnificent on the field. In the fourth quarter, with the Saints down by three and two minutes left on the clock, he orchestrated a drive that would have made highlight reels for years to come. The final touchdown pass—a perfect spiral that found Tyler in the corner of the end zone—sent the stadium into absolute chaos.

I stood and cheered with everyone else, but the celebration felt distant. My phone buzzed with a text from Martin: "Your mother was moved to a regular room this morning."

I stared at the message while confetti cannons exploded around me and the crowd chanted Hayes's name. The contrast between the euphoria surrounding me and the dread settling in my stomach was almost surreal.

I replied: "Tomorrow afternoon."

"There's one more thing I need to tell you, hope it's not too late." He texted again.

My stomach dropped. "What is it?"

"A nurse mentioned it in passing. Your mother pressed for details, and the nurse assumed I'd already told her." he replied.

"What did she say?"

"She didn't say anything, just asked me to go back and get a box."

"A box?"

"I don't know what's inside either. Maybe she'll tell you tomorrow."

"I'll be there tomorrow."

The moment I hit send, I felt something shift inside me. No more delays, no more excuses. Tomorrow, I would finally face the woman who had shaped my life through her absence.

---

The next afternoon, Hayes drove me to the hospital in his car. During the twenty-minute drive, we didn't say much, but his hand rested on my thigh, a steady anchor in the storm of my anxiety.

When we pulled into the parking garage, I remained frozen in the passenger seat, my hands gripping the door handle like a lifeline.

"Second thoughts?" Hayes asked gently.

"Third and fourth thoughts," I admitted. "I want to run. I want to get back in this car and pretend none of this is happening."

Hayes reached over and covered my hands with his. "Then we leave. Right now. No questions asked."

I looked at him—really looked at him—and saw nothing but unconditional support in his eyes. Knowing that he would turn around and drive me home without a single word of judgment if I asked gave me the strength I needed to make the opposite choice.

"No," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I have to do this. If I don't face her now, I'll spend the rest of my life running from it."

Hayes brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles gently. "I'll be right outside her room. If you need me, just say my name."

We walked through the hospital corridors together, past the familiar smell of antiseptic and the soft beeping of machines. The elevator ride to the cardiac wing felt endless, each floor we passed marking another step toward this conversation that had been twenty years in the making.

At the end of the corridor was my mother's room. Martin was already waiting by the door, and when he saw us, he smiled with relief.

"You came."

My footsteps stopped outside the room. Through the small window in the door, I could see inside—my mother was half-sitting up in the hospital bed.

"Ready?" Hayes asked softly.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them: "Yes."

I pushed open the door.

---

The hinges creaked softly, and my mother's head snapped up. In a moment that felt like eternity, we simply stared at each other across the small hospital room—two women separated by twenty years of hurt and misunderstanding, connected by blood and broken promises.

"Sienna," she whispered, and my name sounded different in her voice than I remembered. Softer. More fragile.

I stood in the doorway, one hand still on the door handle, every instinct screaming at me to run. She looked smaller than I remembered, diminished by the hospital gown and the lingering effects of illness. But her eyes—her eyes were the same. Dark brown, like mine, filled with a mixture of hope and fear that I recognized because I was feeling it too.

"Mom," I said, and the word felt foreign on my tongue.

She tried to sit up straighter, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at her incisions. "You came... the nurse said you'd been to the hospital before."

I nodded, my voice terrifyingly calm: "Yes. You had just had surgery."

My mother smiled bitterly: "You're still so thoughtful... so much better than me as a mother."

Silence stretched between us, with only the beeping of the heart monitor marking the passage of time. I forced myself to walk to the chair beside her bed and sit down, maintaining about a meter's distance—not too far, not too close, like drawing a safety boundary.

Finally, my mother spoke first, her voice hoarse but firm: "Sienna, I know... I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. But I must say... I'm sorry."

I looked down at my hands, not responding.

"I'm sorry to you... all these years, I've been running away. I ignored you, neglected you, let you bear so much alone..." my mother continued, her voice beginning to tremble.

She paused for a moment, tears finally falling. "You were just a child, you did nothing wrong. It was me... it was both your father and I who didn't deserve to be your parents. We put our own pain above your needs, we selfishly thought that if we just didn't look, didn't think about it, the pain would disappear. But we were wrong... we lost not only your brother, but you too."

My fingers gripped my knees tightly, knuckles white. I looked up, eyes red-rimmed, my voice calm but with suppressed trembling: "Do you know... when I was little, I always thought I had done something wrong, that's why you didn't love me."

"No... that's not..." my mother's face flashed with enormous pain.

"I desperately tried to be perfect, to get your attention." My voice began to choke up. "I got straight A's, learned to cook, helped you with housework... but you never really saw me. All you had eyes for were my brother's photos, your endless arguments with each other, your own pain..."

My mother covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face, unable to refute.

"I don't blame you for being in pain after losing my brother... but you shouldn't have let a child bear all the anger and breakdown of your marriage. I was your child too, I needed you too..." I took a deep breath and wiped away my tears.

"I know... I know..." my mother sobbed. "I realize now how cruel we were then. Sienna, I don't expect you to forgive us, I just want you to know... it wasn't your fault. It never was."