REMINISCENT

CHAPTER TWENTY: Words Of A Poet (FINAL EDIT)

Aiden's POV

The deadline for the poems was tomorrow, and I still had nothing.

I sighed, dragging my feet toward the TV room where I could hear Mom's laughter blending with the canned laughter of whatever sitcom she was watching.

"Hey, gorgeous," I greeted, leaning down to peck her cheek before plopping beside her.

She looked over with that warm, easy smile of hers. "Hey to you too. How was school?"

"Alright," I muttered, eyes darting to her legs before I could stop myself. "How was physiotherapy? Any progress?"

She wiggled her toes at me like she always did to prove they still worked. "It was alright. Don't worry—you'll be the first to know if I make significant progress," she said with a grin, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

But my frown deepened anyway.

"Mom?"

She hummed in response, still half-watching the TV.

I stared at her hand in mine, the words clawing their way out before I could hold them back.
"Why haven't you ever told me the full story of what happened to your legs? I've never pried, but... as I get older, I just—" I swallowed hard. "—I just keep getting more curious."

The room suddenly felt too quiet.

When she didn't answer right away, I glanced up nervously—only to see tears gathering in her eyes. Guilt surged through me instantly. "Mom, I didn't mean—"

She shook her head softly, silencing me with a trembling smile.

"Oh, my little boy," she whispered, her voice breaking as she cupped my cheek. "You've grown so much."

I stayed quiet, heart pounding.

"It was just... a really bad day," she started slowly. "The beginning of worse days to come."

I gripped her hand tighter.

"It was a cool night. I haven't told you this before, but... it was your father driving," she confessed, watching my eyebrows shoot up.

"We were coming back from a date. The car was filled with laughter—deep conversation, the kind where time feels like it's slipping away too quickly. We reached a crossroad. We both checked. There were no cars in sight, so... naturally, anyone would've proceeded."

She paused, her voice trembling now.

"By the time we were halfway across... lights—blinding lights—filled the car from my side. I barely had time to scream. It was too late for your father to do anything. Next thing I knew..."

Her voice cracked. She stopped.

I didn't need to hear the rest. I wrapped my arms around her as tightly as I could. "Thank God you're okay," I whispered into her shoulder.

When she finally pulled back, calmer now, she looked at me like she wanted to say something—something heavy. Guilt and sadness swirled in her eyes. She opened her mouth...

"Kairah, tu baño está listo! (Your bath is ready)" Belinda's voice broke the moment as she entered, folding her arms with a lifted brow.

Mom exhaled, the moment slipping away. She gave me one last soft smile before letting Bella guide her into the wheelchair.

As they reached the doorway, I caught Belinda's quiet words to her, too low for me to fully hear:

"¿Estabas a punto de contarle lo que pasó? Sabes que tienes que dejar que lo averigüe por su cuenta. (Were you about to tell him what happened? You know you have to let him find out on his own.)"