I love you, I hate you (Re-writing)

Chapter Twenty-Nine *Edited*

Real love doesn't meet you at your best.

It meets you in your mess. ~J.S. Park

Pov: Sophia's pov.

"Ugh!" I sit up with a gasp, my eyes wide open, and my hands find my fast-paced beating heart.

"It's okay." My mother's soft voice enters my ears, somewhat soothing and calming me down. "Lie back down. You're hurt."

I allow her to push me back on the bed as she adjusts my pillow to support my neck better and then helps me to a glass of water to quench my thirst. And it's not for a couple of minutes that I remember everything that happened yesterday: the argument with my father, me running out and dashing into the woods, stumbling upon Chase and being attacked by him, and diving off of a cliff to save myself. The rest, I can't determine whether it was a dream or part of my reality. Is it possible that I was in a room -in human form- with Astra and was watching Julian hurl himself into a monstrous bubble? It sounds bogus just saying it, but the scene is engraved into my mind for a few different reasons, a few of which being fear of something terrible happening to Julian and finally being a priority for someone so much that they would risk their well-being for mine. But is it really true?

I clear my throat and grasp my mother's attention from where she's standing, fixing the bedsheets to cover me better. "Julian?" I ask, my eyes darting around the room for his muscular yet soft form. "Where is he?"

"Um." For a couple of seconds, my mother avoids meeting my eyes as she searches for words to speak and then settles for, "He's resting in his room."

At first, his absence was alarming, but I tried not to let it get to my head. Maybe he was by my side while I was unconscious and had just persuaded him to grab a bite, have a shower, and get some well-needed rest, but that doesn't explain my mother's hesitation to answer my simple question. It almost feels as if she's afraid of my reaction in a sense. Only by asking her directly about it will I get a straight answer, so that's what I do. "Is he resting or recovering from injuries?"

My mother looks taken aback and then murmurs something that sounds like: "So she remembers." Very hesitantly, she nods her head. "He was hurt quite severely and has been recovering in his room for the past four days."

"Four days?!" I gasp.

She empathetically squeezes my hand and nods. "It's been four days since that fateful night. He was severely hurt so his body needed time to recover. Whereas you, the psychological impact had been detrimental, sending you into a short-lengthed coma. The doctor didn't know how long it was going to last. Thankfully, you were a tough cookie and recovered sooner than expected."

I pull my hand away from her hold and squeeze the bedsheets that I'm holding as I use all my strength to sit in an upright position and swing my legs around to get off the bed. My mother isn't swift enough to stop me nor catch me as my legs tremble, and I hit the floor with a thud.

"Sophia!" Frightened, she squeaks out my name and climbs the bed to get to me quicker. She drops to the floor next to me and checks my body for any injury.

"I'm not hurt." I pry her hands away from my body before engulfing them in my own. "I just want to see him. Can you take me to him?"

She looks unsure, "He's out of the woods and you're still recovering. Can you wait until the doctor examines you and clears you?"

"Please?' I blink back the tears in my eyes, and my voice becomes hoarser than before. "I know he's safe, but I want to see him. Only by looking at him will I feel at ease about his well-being. It's the least I can do after he saved me. As long as you fulfill that one wish, you won't find any objection from me afterward."