Mira’s POV_
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The next morning, Dad and I sat down for breakfast. He had made scrambled eggs and toast, though I barely had the appetite to eat. The events of yesterday still lingered in my mind, a tangled mess of emotions I couldn’t untangle. Dad was quiet, poking at his food more than eating it. I could tell he was just as troubled,
though he tried to hide it for my sake.
As I took a small bite of toast, the phone rang. Dad immediately got up to answer it. I watched as he walked
to the kitchen counter and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?” he said, his tone cautious.
The voice on the other end was too faint for me to hear, but I noticed the change in my father immediately. His shoulders tensed, and the color drained from his face. He listened silently, gripping the phone so tightly I thought it might break.
“Okay,” he said after a long pause. “Thank you for letting me know.”
He set the phone down and just stood there, staring at nothing.
“Dad?” I called, my voice shaky. “What is wrong?”
He didn’t respond. His silence was more alarming than any words could have been. I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor, and walked over to him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I tried again. “Dad, please, talk to me. What happened?”
He finally turned to me, his eyes filled with tears. His voice broke as he spoke. “Your mother…she is gone, Mira. She passed away this morning. The doctors…they tried, but they couldn’t save her.”
The world seemed to tilt beneath me. I felt the air leave my lungs, and my knees buckled. Before I realized it, I was on the floor, staring blankly ahead. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, this isn’t possible. Mom can’t be gone. She can’t.”
Tears streamed down my face as the reality of his words sank in. My chest felt heavy, as though a giant weight was crushing me from the inside. The room blurred, and my vision swam with tears. “She was supposed to come home, Dad. She was going to be okay.”
“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. He knelt beside me and held me close, his own tears falling freely. “I thought so too, sweetheart. I thought she would pull through.”
We sat like that for what felt like an eternity, holding onto each other as if that could somehow bring her back. When Dad finally pulled away, his face was resolute despite the grief in his eyes. “We need to go to the hospital, Mira,” he said softly. “We need to see her.”
I nodded numbly and went to get ready. My hands trembled as I pulled on my clothes, and every step felt heavier than the last. The car ride to the hospital was silent, both of us lost in our own thoughts. When we arrived, the sterile smell of the hospital hit me, making my stomach churn.
A nurse led us to the room where Mom’s body was. As we entered, I felt a cold dread settle over me. My mother lay on the hospital bed, her face pale and peaceful. She looked like she was just sleeping, but I knew
better.
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<Chapter 54
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I couldn’t breathe. My legs felt like they might give out again. I reached for the edge of the bed to steady myself, but the sight of her lifeless body made the reality all too clear. “Mom,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. Tears blurred my vision, and a sob escaped me.
Luna Marinette was the first to approach me. She wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug, her warmth a
stark contrast to the coldness I felt inside. “I’m so sorry, Mira,” she said softly. “I can’t imagine what you’re
going through.”
I couldn’t even respond. My throat felt like it was closing up, and all I could do was nod against her shoulder.
Alpha Roger stood nearby, his expression somber. He patted my back gently, offering his condolences before
turning to speak with my father.
The room felt suffocating. I couldn’t bear to stay any longer. Without a word, I slipped out and found a bench in the hallway. Sitting down, I buried my face in my hands, letting the tears flow freely. The ache in my chest was unbearable, like a part of me had been ripped away.
A moment later, I sensed someone approaching. I didn’t have to look up to know it was Killian. His presence was like an itch I couldn’t ignore, even in my grief. He sat down beside me, but I didn’t acknowledge him.
“I’m sorry, Mira,” he said quietly. His voice was gentle, almost hesitant. “I know this must be incredibly hard for you.”
“Don’t,” I snapped, lifting my head to glare at him through my tears. “Don’t pretend like you care. Just leave
me alone.”
He looked at me, his expression full of something I couldn’t place–guilt, maybe, or regret. But I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to feel anything from him.
“Mira, I-” he started, but I cut him off.
“Go away, Killian,” I said firmly. “I can’t do this right now. Please.”
For a moment, he hesitated, as if he wanted to say more. But then he nodded and stood up. “If you need anything…anything at all, just let me know,” he said before walking away.
As soon as he was gone, I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes. The silence of the hallway was a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind. I didn’t know how to move forward, how to face the world without my mother in it. She had always been my anchor, my source of strength. And now she was gone.
I stayed on that bench for what felt like hours, lost in my grief. People passed by, offering sympathetic looks, but I didn’t acknowledge them. All I could do was sit there, feeling the weight of my loss crushing me. Eventually, Dad came out of the room. His face was pale, his eyes red from crying. He sat down beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get through this, Mira,” he said softly. “It won’t be easy, but we’ll get through it together.”
I nodded, though I didn’t believe him. How could we get through this? How could life ever go back to no The hole Mom had left in our lives was too big, too deep to fill.
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But for now, I clung to my father’s words, hoping that, somehow, they might be true.
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