Chapter 364
Lilly.
No one has moved in three hours.
We’ve shifted our weight, changed positions, paced a little, and sat back down, but no one has actually left the room. It feels like if we do, if we step out even for a second, something will happen and we won’t be there for it.
Sierra lies on the bed, machines surrounding her, tracking every breath, every heartbeat, every fragile sign that she’s still here.
I haven’t taken my eyes off her for more than a few seconds at a time.
Aunt Ivy sits beside her, one hand wrapped around Sierra’s, her thumb brushing over her skin in slow, repetitive motions, like she’s trying to ground herself as much as Sierra.
Noah hasn’t said a word. He’s leaning against the wall, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides like he’s holding himself together by force. I’ve never seen him this still, this quiet, and it unsettles me more than if he were shouting or breaking something.
We’re all waiting. Waiting for her to wake up. Waiting for the moment we have been dreading since we were informed.
The sound of a soft shift pulls my attention back to the bed and it lands on Sierra’s twitching fingers.
My breath catches and my heart begins pounding.
“Aunt Ivy,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, but it’s enough.
Aunt Ivy looks down immediately, her body going rigid as Sierra’s eyelids flutter slightly.
For a second, nothing happens, then slowly, painfully, Sierra’s eyes begin to open.
They’re unfocused at first, her gaze drifting around the room as if she’s trying to piece together where she is. Confusion clouds her expression, her brows pulling together as she takes in the white walls, the machines, the people surrounding her.
It takes a moment but then it hits, and I see the exact second it registers.
Her breathing changes, her eyes widening slightly as awareness settles in.
She tries to sit up too quickly and Aunt Ivy moves instantly, supporting her, easing her into a sitting position.
“Careful, sweetheart,” she says softly, her voice trembling despite her effort to keep it steady.
Sierra barely seems to hear her. Her eyes scan the room, frantic now, searching for something that isn’t there.
“My baby,” she says, her voice hoarse and strained. “Where is my baby p>
The question lands like a stone in the middle of the room but no one answers because how are we supposed to answer? How are we supposed to tell?
We’ve gone through this since we were informed and there is no easy way of telling her, no matter which angle we look at it.
Aunt Ivy tightens her hold on her hand. “How are you feeling?” she asks gently, clearly trying to buy time.
Sierra’s head snaps toward her, something sharp flashing in her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she says tersely, even though it’s obvious she isn’t. “Where is my baby p>
Silence stretches, so heavy it’s suffocating.
I glance at Noah, but he doesn’t move or speak.
We all know what this moment is.
We talked about it earlier, before she woke up, when everything still felt like something we could prepare for. We agreed that her mom would be the one to tell her. That it would be better coming from her, but now that it’s here… no one seems ready.
Sierra notices. Her eyes move between us, reading the silence, reading the tension, and something in her expression starts to change.
Her mom takes a slow breath before turning back to her, her fingers tightening slightly around Sierra’s.
“Sweetheart,” she says softly, “I need you to calm down first p>
Sierra frowns, confusion and unease settling in her features, but after a second, she gives a small, hesitant nod.
“I’m calm,” she says, even though her voice wavers. “Just… tell me p>
Her mom swallows, and for the first time, I see it clearly. The crack in her composure and the pain she’s been trying so hard to hold together.
“You have to be strong for me, okay?” she says.
That’s when Sierra’s expression shifts completely. I see it happen in real time, the way her face falls and the way something breaks behind her eyes.
“Aunt Harper lied to me, didn’t she?” she asks, her voice quiet but shaking. “My baby is dead… is that what you’re trying to tell me p>
Her mom’s head shakes immediately, her grip on Sierra tightening.
“No,” she says quickly, her voice breaking slightly. “No, sweetheart. That’s not it p>
She takes a deep breath, steadying herself, and for a moment, it feels like the entire room is holding that breath with her.
“Your baby is alive,” she says.
Sierra goes completely still and for a second, it’s like she didn’t hear them properly.
“What?” she whispers, her voice so soft I almost miss it. “My baby is alive? Then where is he p>