Tragic
Alara’s POV The hospital room was quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. A pale sun slipped through the slats of the blinds, casting faint golden lines across my mother’s blanket. She looked smaller now. Not in size—but in presence. My mother had always been the strongest woman I knew, fierce even when the world tried to break her. But this morning, her skin looked too pale. Her cheeks too sunken. And her voice… faint. I sat beside her, holding her hand gently. It felt cold beneath mine. “I brought someone,” I said softly, managing a smile that felt forced on my lips. Her eyes opened, tired but alert. “Someone?” I turned toward the doorway. Ace stood there, tall and imposing, dressed in tailored black slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his e
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