The door to the private suite closed softly behind Dr. Reynolds and the nurse, leaving only Ella, Nicholas, and the soft hum of the machines monitoring her mother's vitals.
Ella sat in the armchair beside the bed, her hand still clasping her mother's. Nicholas had quietly stepped back, giving her room, but he didn't leave. He leaned against the far wall near the window, arms folded, gaze gentle and unreadable.
The silence stretched—thick, tender, weighted with unsaid things.
Ella exhaled shakily, then leaned forward, brushing her fingers softly over the back of her mother's hand. "Hey, Mom…"
Her voice wavered.
"I don't even know where to start. It's been… chaos. And I know you can't hear me—or maybe you can. I don't know how this works. But I need to talk to you. Because if I don't, I might fall apart."
She sniffled, wiping her cheek with the back of her sleeve. "I've missed you. God, I've missed you so much. Every time something bad happened, I used to think, 'If only I could tell Mom, she'd know what to do.' And then I'd remember that you're here. Sleeping. And I'd feel so stupid, because I can't even hear your voice anymore."
Nicholas lowered his gaze, letting her speak without interruption. His throat tightened at the emotion in her voice. He hadn't seen her this raw. This vulnerable. It made him want to tear the world apart for her.
"I tried, you know," Ella whispered. "I tried so hard to keep everything together after the accident. I worked nonstop, sold everything I had, and when that wasn't enough, I begged. I begged people who didn't care. I begged people who looked at me like I was garbage."
Her hand trembled in her mother's.
"And the worst part?" Her lips trembled. "Dad replaced you. Just like that. Like you never mattered. He brought someone else into our house, and suddenly I was the one who didn't belong. And I kept thinking, 'If Mom wakes up, she'll fix it. She'll come back and remind them who we are.'"
A soft sob escaped her throat, and Nicholas instinctively stepped forward, but she held up her hand—just a small motion—asking for a little more time.
"I've been so tired, Mom. So angry. And then…"
She paused, swallowing hard.
"Then Nicholas showed up. He said I'm his wife." She chuckled, "crazy right? I thought he was just another rich guy, but he… he saw me. Not the version of me everyone else pities or uses. Just me."
Her voice cracked, full of wonder and disbelief. "He found me after Ryan hurt me. He brought me here. He took care of you like you were his mother. And I don't know why—why he cares this much. But I think maybe he's the first person who's ever made me feel safe since you got sick."
She wiped her eyes again, her breathing uneven.
"I want you to wake up, Mom. I want you to meet him. Because I think—" her voice faltered, barely above a whisper "—I think you might like him very much"
Nicholas closed his eyes briefly, jaw clenched.
Ella leaned forward, laying her forehead gently against her mother's hand. "Please come back to me. I don't want to do the rest of this life without you."
There was no answer, only the gentle beep of the monitors and the faint scent of lavender drifting in from the diffuser nearby.
Ella stayed there for a long moment, breathing in and out, grounding herself.
Eventually, Nicholas walked over and placed a quiet hand on her shoulder.
She looked up at him, her eyes red and glistening but no longer frantic.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
She nodded, but her voice was hoarse when she answered. "I will be."
Nicholas glanced at her mother, then back at her. "She's strong. She's still fighting."
Ella looked back at her mother. "I know. I just needed to remind her I'm still here too."
Nicholas crouched down, their eyes level. "And I needed you to know… so am I."
She managed a small, grateful smile, one that barely reached her eyes—but it was a start.
He reached out and gently wiped away the tear that lingered on her cheek. "Ready to go back?"
Ella shook her head. "Just a few more minutes?"
He nodded. "Take all the time you need."
Then he stepped back, giving her space again—but not too far. Never too far.