I don't know how long we waited.
Time inside a hospital doesn't move normally—it stretches, folds, pauses just to mess with your heart. I was half-asleep against Keifer's shoulder when a nurse finally walked toward us, her expression careful but lighter than before.
"He's conscious," she said. "Only for a short while. Two people can go in."
I stood up so fast my head spun.
Before anyone could decide, my mother was already on her feet. She looked at me—hesitant, almost afraid to ask.
I nodded immediately. "Go. Both of us."
Keifer squeezed my hand once, silently telling me he'd be right outside.
The room smelled like antiseptic and quiet fear.
My father lay there, thinner than I remembered, skin pale, eyes closed—but when the nurse gently called his name, his eyelids fluttered.
Slowly… painfully… he opened them.
The moment he saw me, his lips trembled.
"Jay," he whispered.
I rushed to his side, carefully holding his hand like it might break. "I'm here. Don't talk too much, okay?"
His eyes shifted—then widened.
He saw her.
My mother.
She stood frozen near the door, hands clenched together, eyes already shining with tears.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then my father swallowed and said, hoarsely, almost disbelieving, "You came."
That was all it took.
My mother walked forward in two unsteady steps and dropped into the chair beside him, covering her mouth as a sob escaped.
"I'm sorry," she said, voice breaking completely. "I'm so sorry."
He tried to lift his hand toward her but lacked the strength. I gently guided it, placing his hand in hers.
She held it like she was terrified it might disappear.
"I should have been here earlier," she continued. "I should have listened. I should have stopped running."
He gave a weak, sad smile. "I wasn't innocent either."
She shook her head quickly. "No—listen to me first. Please."
Her voice steadied just enough to carry the weight of years.
"I moved on," she said. "Again and again. I told myself I was strong, that I didn't need to look back. But I never stopped to think about what you were feeling. I never gave you a second chance." Her voice cracked. "And I didn't let the children meet you. I thought I was protecting them… but maybe I was just punishing you."
I felt my chest tighten.
My father closed his eyes briefly, a tear slipping from the corner.
"And I lied," he said quietly. "I should have told you the truth from the beginning."
My mother looked up sharply.
"I was already married before Jay," he continued, shame heavy in his tone. "I was scared.
Cowardly. I thought I could fix it later, clean it up somehow. But lies don't clean themselves. They rot."
She stared at him, breathing uneven.
"That truth broke everything," he said. "And I let it."
Silence filled the room again—thick, painful, real.
Then my mother did something I never imagined.
She leaned forward and rested her forehead gently against his hand.
"I hated you for years," she whispered. "But I hated myself more for not asking you to fight for us again."
He squeezed her fingers weakly. "I would have," he said. "If you had asked… I would have."
Her shoulders shook as she cried openly now, no pride left, no defenses.
"I forgive you," she said. "For the lie. For the silence. For everything."
His breath hitched.
"And I forgive you," he replied. "For leaving. For protecting yourself even when it hurt us."
I stood there between them, tears sliding silently down my face.
For so long, I thought love only came with damage.
But right now—right here—I was watching two broken people choose forgiveness over bitterness.
My father turned his eyes to me.
"You've grown," he said softly. "You're braver than both of us."
I shook my head, crying. "I was just scared of losing you."
He smiled faintly. "That's love."
The nurse cleared her throat gently, reminding us time was up.
As we stepped back, my mother didn't let go of his hand until the very last second.
Outside, the corridor felt brighter somehow.
Keifer was the first thing I saw.
I walked straight into his arms again, but this time my tears were different—lighter, trembling with relief.
Behind me, my parents stood side by side.
Not fixed.
Not perfect.
But forgiving.
And for the first time, it felt like something truly broken had finally begun to heal.
Author's Note:
Sorry guys but this chapter is somewhat short.
By the way, don't forget to tell me how's my story 😁?