TWENTY THREE

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The car ride to the hospital felt like a dream I couldn't wake up from. The world outside blurred through my eyes as we drove in silence, only the hum of the engine filling the space between us. Shawn glanced over at me every so often, his eyes filled with excitment while his hand rested on my leg. I smiled at him, trying to feel normal holding his hand gently. In truth, I felt numb, as if I was watching my life happen from a distance again. After a month of being in a whirlwind of events, everything was going to finally shift back to "normal" and I had no idea how to process it.

As we pulled into the hospital parking lot, I stared ahead, gripping my phone tightly in my hand. My mother was awake. The words didn't feel real. They were just sounds, meaningless syllables that hadn't sunk in yet.

We walked through the sterile hallways of the hospital, Shawn by my side but oddly far away in my mind. Each step felt heavy, like my body was moving through mud. I wanted to feel relieved, to be happy, but all I felt was this strange sense of dread, as if I'd forgotten how to breathe freely.

When we reached my mother's room, I stopped at the door, heart pounding. Through the window, I saw her, propped up slightly, her frail frame outlined by the crisp white sheets. A nurse was by her side, gently helping her drink from a straw. My breath caught in my throat.

A piercing sound rang in my ear as if I was confusing fiction with reality. She was really awake. I stepped inside, moved by an invisible force. The sight of her, conscious and awake, alive after everything... I couldn't hold it in anymore. I burst into tears, the sobs escaping before I could stop them.

- Mom, I whispered, barely able to get the words out as I rushed to her bedside.

My mom opened her arms slowly, and I collapsed into them, crying all the tears I hadn't let myself shed. My face pressed into her lap as I clung to her, sobbing uncontrollably. Her hands, cool and gentle, stroked my hair in soothing motions. She didn't speak, just held me as I cried, her presence like a balm over the months of worry and guilt I'd carried with me.

- I'm so sorry, I whispered through the sobs. I'm sorry, Mama. I never wanted any of this to happen to you. It's all my fault.

My mom hushed me softly, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with warmth.

- Oh Nami, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just... Getting old.

Her words, so simple and loving, only made me cry harder. I had been holding onto the guilt of her stroke for so long, convinced that I had somehow caused it with my choices, my stubbornness over the years, my need to leave and live my life. But here she was, telling me I had done nothing wrong.

For a long time, I just lay there, my head on her lap, letting the wave of emotions crash over me. My mom continued to stroke my hair, her fingers moving through the strands like she used to when I was a child. Despite the heaviness in my chest, a small part of me felt comforted by the familiar gesture.

We stayed quiet for a moment, and after a while I looked up remembering that I didn't come here alone. To my surprise, Shawn wasn't in the room and it made me wonder if he actually came into the room with me.

I sit up to blow my stuffy nose, searching for him.

- Who are you looking for Nami?

My mother's voice was soft but I heard her clearly.

- Uh, Shawn. He drove me here.
- Oh Shawn... He should come say hi.

Blinking in surprise, I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

- You... want to see Shawn?

My mom nodded gently, her gaze soft but thoughtful.

- Of course, Maami. He's been here before, hasn't he?

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