Page 68 of Fake To Forever

"Mom," I manage to whisper, my voice breaking. "Mom, it’s me."

Her eyelids flutter open, just barely, and her gaze meets mine. There’s recognition there, a faint flicker of awareness, and it shatters something inside me.

"I’m here," I say, my voice trembling. "We’re all here."

I don’t mention Marie. She didn’t come with us. She couldn’t, I know… and I can’t blame her for it. After everything that happened with her own mother, and then my mother collapsing at my wedding… it's too much for her.

Mom tries to speak, but no words come out, just a soft, broken sound that tears at my heart. I lean down closer, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, my tears falling freely now.

"I love you," I whisper, my throat tightening as the words leave my mouth. "I love you so much, Mom. Thank you for everything—for always being there for me, for Garrett, for all of us."

Her lips move, and I lean closer, trying to hear her. It’s faint, but I can make out the words.

"I love you… Haven… always."

My breath hitches, and I press a kiss to her forehead, my tears wetting her skin. I can feel Christian standing behind me, his presence a comfort, but in this moment, it’s just me and her. Just a daughter saying goodbye to her mother.

"You don’t have to fight anymore," I whisper, choking on the words. "It’s okay, Mom. We’re going to be okay."

Her breathing grows more ragged, and I can feel her slipping away, each breath weaker than the last. I grip her hand tighter, desperate to hold on to her for just a little longer. Garrett lets out a quiet sob, and I hear my stepfather murmuring something to her, but the words blur together in my mind. All I can focus on is the steady rhythm of her breathing—each breath further apart than the last.

And then… nothing.

The heart monitor flatlines, the sound piercing through the room like a blade, and my world shatters.

"No," I whisper, my knees buckling as I collapse against the side of the bed. "No, no, no…"

Christian is there, pulling me into his arms, holding me tightly as I sob against his chest. The weight of it all crashes down on me, and I can’t breathe, I can’t think. My mom is gone. She’s really gone.

Garrett’s quiet sobs fill the room, and Peter holds my mom’s hand, his head bowed in silent grief. The world outside the hospital continues to turn, but for me, for us, time has stopped. I clutch Christian’s shirt, my tears soaking through the fabric, and he just holds me, his hand running gently through my hair as he whispers soothing words I can barely hear.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Doctors come in, nurses talk to us, but I’m not really there. I’m somewhere else, lost in a sea of grief and disbelief, trying to make sense of a world without my mom in it.

But there is no sense to be made. There’s only loss.

***

When we walk through the front door, the house feels eerily quiet. It’s the kind of silence that makes everything feel heavier than it already is. The dim light filters in through the windows, and I just stand there, numb, not knowing what to do next. Christian is right behind me, close but not touching, his presence like a quiet storm that’s just waiting to break.

I’m exhausted, emotionally wrung out, and the reality of what just happened hasn’t fully hit me yet. Mom’s gone. Just like that. The words are there, in my mind, but they haven’t settled in. It feels impossible.

I slowly make my way to the living room. Christian follows, watching me closely, probably waiting for me to say something, but I have no words. I collapse onto the couch, curling my legs under me and my big skirt, and stare blankly at the wedding decorations still scattered around the room—the flowers, the ribbons, the champagne flutes we never got to drink from. It all feels like a cruel joke now.

Christian sits beside me, careful, like he’s trying to give me space while still being close enough to catch me if I fall apart.

"Haven," he says softly, reaching out to place a hand on my knee. His voice is full of concern, but I can’t look at him. If I do, I might crack open, and I’m not sure I can put myself back together after that.

I don’t respond right away. Instead, I keep staring at the decorations, the remnants of the day that was supposed to be the start of something beautiful. But now? Now it feels empty, like none of it matters anymore.

"I don’t know what to do," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

Christian’s hand tightens gently on my knee. "You don’t have to do anything right now. Just breathe."

Breathe. It seems so simple, yet impossible. I’m barely holding on as it is.

"She’s gone," I choke out, my chest tightening as the words finally leave my mouth. "My mom is gone, Christian."

He shifts closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. I collapse into him, my face pressed against him, and the sobs I’ve been holding in all night finally break free. His hand strokes my hair as I cry, my tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care. He just holds me tighter, as if he can keep me from falling apart completely.

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