Chapter 110
Nora's POV
The airport was nearly empty this early. I changed my flight at the counter, my hands shaking so badly I could barely sign the credit card receipt.
I found a corner seat in the waiting area and sat down, staring at nothing.
Two AM.
The same time I'd woken from the dream. Mom—
I couldn't finish the thought.
My phone buzzed. Julian's name appeared on the screen.
[I heard. Ethan will meet you at the airport. You're not alone.]
I stared at the message, vision blurring again.
[Okay] I typed back.
Then I turned off my phone, leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair, and closed my eyes.
---
The flight was only two hours, but it felt like an eternity.
I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mom on that horse, riding away from me. Heard those wind chimes fading into silence.
She was saying goodbye.
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
The dream hadn't been random. On some level I couldn't explain, I'd known.
And I'd done nothing.
---
Ethan was waiting when I landed, exactly as Julian had promised. He took my bag without a word and led me to the car.
We drove straight to the hospital.
The corridor reeked of disinfectant and the low hum of machinery. My footsteps followed Ethan mechanically, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Marianne and Lucas were already waiting outside the room. The moment she saw me, Marianne's eyes turned red.
"Nora..." She opened her arms.
I walked into her embrace, but I felt nothing. It was as if an invisible barrier separated me from the world.
"Where is she?" My voice sounded hollow and terrible.
"Inside." Lucas's voice was hoarse.
I pushed open the door.
The room was quiet. The life support monitor's screen was dark, all the tubes removed. Mom lay in the hospital bed, covered with a white sheet, her face peaceful and serene.
No more of that painful contortion from when she was alive. No more confused gaze.
She looked... free.
I approached slowly, my legs like lead. The chair beside the bed was still in its usual position—where I sat every visit, holding her hand, talking to her, even though she never responded.
Now she would never respond.
"Mom." I heard myself say, my voice trembling. "Mom, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't..."
The words stuck in my throat. I knelt beside the bed, reaching out to touch her face, but my fingers stopped in mid-air.
Her skin must be cold. No warmth. No life.
I didn't dare confirm it.
Footsteps sounded behind me. A warm hand gently settled on my shoulder.
I turned to see Julian standing there. His eyes were slightly red, his Adam's apple bobbing as if restraining some emotion.
"I'm so sorry, Nora." His voice was low and raspy.
I opened my mouth to say something, but my throat felt blocked.
Marianne appeared at my other side, holding an envelope. "She left this for you. She wrote it while she was lucid, before..."
I took the letter with trembling hands. The handwriting was shaky but unmistakably Mom's.
> My dearest Nora,
>
> I'm sorry. I know how hard you've all worked to take care of me. But I can't do this anymore. Every time I wake up, I have to remember all over again that your father is gone. I can't keep living through that pain.
>
> You've grown into such a strong woman. You don't need a broken mother holding you back anymore.
>
> That young man who came to visit—the way he looks at you reminds me of how your father looked at me. I know you'll be happy together. I can let go now.
>
> Go live your life, sweetheart. Don't feel guilty about my choice. I'm finally going to be with your father again. I've missed him so much.
>
> All my love,
> Mom
The letter fell from my hands. A sound came out of me—something between a sob and a scream.
"I dreamed about her," I choked out. "I couldn't catch up. I couldn't—"
Julian knelt beside me, pulling me into his arms. "She's free now, Nora. She's not trapped in that pain anymore."
I collapsed against him, crying until I had nothing left.
---
The funeral home smelled of lilies and old wood polish.
The service itself was simple—a minister spoke generic words about peace and eternal rest. A slightly crackling speaker played a recording of hymns. No elaborate eulogy, no dramatic testimonials.
Just a quiet acknowledgment that Moira Grey had finally stopped fighting.
When they closed the casket, something fundamental inside me tore loose. Aunt Marianne held me tightly as I cried.
Julian had been there for the service, standing in the back corner in his dark suit. I could feel his presence like a weighted blanket—grounding, solid.
Now, as people filed out offering their sympathies, I mechanically accepted hugs and murmured thanks. My body went through the motions while my mind floated somewhere above it all, disconnected and strange.
Henry appeared near the end, looking travel-worn. "Nora. I'm so sorry I missed it. My flight was delayed, and—"
"It's okay." I cut him off gently. "Thank you for coming at all."
He studied my face with concern. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
The lie sat bitter on my tongue, but what else was I supposed to say? I can't feel anything? I'm terrified this emptiness will never end?
Henry didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. "If you need anything..."
"I know. Thank you."
He left with the others, and finally it was just family. Marianne, Lucas, and me standing in the suddenly too-quiet funeral home while staff began dismantling the flower arrangements.
Marian's voice was hoarse from crying. "Nora. You shouldn't be alone."
"I just need some air first," I said.
She didn't argue. Lucas guided her toward the entrance, casting one worried glance back at me before they disappeared.
I sat on the bench under the old oak tree.
The April wind picked up, pulling strands of hair from my braid.
Footsteps approached from behind—measured, deliberate. I didn't turn around. I knew that particular rhythm.