Liam’s POV
I stood frozen, unable to comprehend the sight before my eyes. It was her-the woman who had caused so much pain in my heart, the very reason my father was no longer with us, and the catalyst for the shattering of my happiness.
This woman, my own mother, had stripped away everything from me. Once upon a time, I had loved her unconditionally, but now she stood before me as the embodiment of betrayal and abandonment. Without a second thought, she had denied me, casting me aside to suffer and start anew with her new family.
My heart burned with a mix of anger and sorrow as I watched her, knowing that her presence alone was enough to ignite past hatred within me. If only I could erase the encounter from my memory, particularly in this fragile state that fills me with sadness.
But what had happened to her? Why was she in such a condition? In spite of my lingering resentment, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of concern and compassion for the vulnerable, weakened figure before me.
“Mind your own business, Liam,” a voice echoed in my mind, reminding me to let her new family members take care of her. Surely, they must be lurking nearby, burdened with the responsibility of her well-being. However, my thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of my mother’s labored breathing.
Panic consumed me as I observed her struggling for each breath. My instincts kicked in, propelling me out of the room and into a frantic search for a doctor. The urgency in my movements reflected the mix of emotions swirling within me-fear, worry, and a glimmer of hope that, despite everything, she would be okay.
I raced through the corridors, my heart pounding in my chest, desperately scanning the surroundings for any sign of a medical professional. Panic welled up inside me as seconds turned into eternity, each passing moment heightening the gravity of the situation. Finally, I spotted a white coat disappearing around a corner and I sprinted after it, my breaths coming in shallow gasps.
“Doctor!” I called out, my voice laced with desperation. “Please, come quickly! It’s my mother!”
The doctor, a middle-aged man with a concerned expression etched across his face, turned to face me. He took in my disheveled appearance, the worry etched in my eyes, and the urgency in my voice. Without hesitation, he understood the severity of the situation.
“Lead me to her,” he commanded, his voice steady and authoritative.
Together, we rushed back to my mother’s side, the sound of our hurried footsteps echoing through the sterile hallways. As we entered the room, the doctor’s eyes widened with concern at the sight before him.
My mother lay on the bed, her face pale and gaunt, her body weakened by the battles life had thrown her way. Every breath seemed to be a struggle, and her chest heaved with the effort. The air was thick with tension, the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the present intertwining in the room.
The doctor wasted no time, swiftly assessing her condition with a professional eye. He ordered the nurses to prepare vital monitoring equipment, his voice carrying an air of authority. I watched, a mixture of anxiety and hope coursing through my veins, as the medical team sprang into action.
As they worked, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions consumed me. The resentment and anger I had harbored for so long began to crumble, giving way to a torrent of conflicting emotions. Memories of a happier time flooded my mind-my mother’s smile, the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her embrace. It was a painful reminder of what once was, and what had been lost.
In the midst of the chaos, I found myself grappling with a profound realization-I still cared for my mother. Despite the pain she had caused, a part of me couldn’t let go of the love that had once bound us. It was a bittersweet revelation, tangled in a web of hurt and forgiveness.
Hours passed, each one feeling like an eternity as I watched the medical team fight to stabilize my mother’s condition. The drama unfolded in that hospital room, a battle between life and death, hope and despair. The beep of the monitors and the hushed whispers of the medical staff filled the air, adding to the suspense that hung thickly around us.
And then, in a moment that felt suspended in time, the room fell eerily silent. The doctor’s eyes met mine, his face etched with a mixture of weariness and guarded optimism. I held my breath, waiting for the verdict that would determine our fate.
“She’s stable, for now,” the doctor finally announced, his voice carrying a glimmer of relief. “We managed to stabilize her breathing, but she’s not out of the woods yet. We’ll need to continue monitoring her closely.”
Tears welled up in my eyes as a wave of gratitude washed over me. Though our relationship was marred by pain and resentment, the love I had buried deep within my heart resurfaced, mingled with a newfound appreciation for the fragility of life.
“But doctor, what’s wrong with my mo…” The words escaped my lips before I could filter them, and I immediately halted, noticing the doctor’s suspicious gaze fixated on me.
“I mean, what’s wrong with this woman, and why was she left unattended in this room?” I hastily questioned, frustration mingled with concern as I confronted the doctor about the apparent lack of effort in caring for my mother.
“You see, Mr. Scott, this woman you see here has chronic cancer, and it has already progressed to stage three,” the doctor informed me, his voice filled with a somber gravity. The weight of his words crashed upon me, and I struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what he had just revealed.
My own mother, afflicted by cancer.
“Wh… at?” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper as I grappled with the shock of the diagnosis.
“Yes, and no one has come forward to claim her. There are rumors that she was abandoned by her own family, left here to face her fate alone,” the doctor continued, his tone tinged with a mixture of sympathy and resignation. Each word pierced through me like a dagger, unraveling a tapestry of abandonment and despair.
“And you see, our hospital doesn’t provide free care services, which is why we haven’t been able to proceed with any treatment,” the doctor explained further, his words causing a surge of anger to well up within me.
“Enough!” I interjected, unable to bear the weight of the doctor’s words any longer. Determination burned in my eyes as I locked gazes with the medical professional before me.
“I need you and your team to begin the necessary procedures immediately. I will take care of all the bills,” I declared firmly, my voice filled with unwavering resolve. The thought of financial constraints hindering my mother’s chances of survival was inconceivable to me.
“Okay, Mr. Scott,” the doctor conceded, a mixture of surprise and relief evident in his response. He swiftly exited the room, leaving me alone with my mother, my heart heavy with a newfound purpose.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Mom,” I whispered, my grip on her hand tightening.