My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 95

Chapter 95: Chapter 95 BYE-BYE CIVILITY

SERAPHINA’S POV

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and boiled linen, a sharp, sterile scent that clawed at my nerves the moment I stepped through the sliding glass doors—and was bombarded with painful memories of the last time I was called to a parent’s hospital room.

Kieran tentatively laid a hand on my elbow when I halted just a few feet from the entrance, trying to catch my breath.

“Sera.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, unnervingly kind. “Do you want me to go in with you?”

I shook my head, stepping out of his reach. We’d spent the entire trip back in our tentative truce bubble, and I didn’t want him to think that now that we were back in California, it had evaporated.

As much as I didn’t want to face the prospect of my possibly dying mother alone, I didn’t want to have to lean on Kieran.

Especially since he wasn’t there to lean on when my father died.

“I’m fine,” I said quietly, before heading towards the nurse’s station.

Five minutes later, the elevator doors dinged open on the top floor.

For all the frantic urgency with which Kieran and I had left the island, I half expected to find my mom’s room barricaded by doctors, machines hissing, nurses rushing in and out with grave expressions.

Instead, I found her sitting upright in bed, propped on too many pillows, her hair neatly combed, a pale silk robe drawn around her shoulders, a glass of cucumber water in her freshly manicured hands.

Her pulse monitor ticked steadily, unhurried, as though mocking my own racing heartbeat.

My lungs loosened at once. Relief flooded me—so sharp it almost left me dizzy.

She wasn’t dying. She wasn’t even close.

Hell, her color looked better than mine, and I’d just come back from the fucking Caribbean.

And just like that, suspicion coiled up in the hollow of my stomach.

Of course. Celeste.

I should have known better than to dance to her strings. When had we ever had an interaction that didn’t have an ulterior motive?

How could I have so blindly and naively believed her?

Still, a sliver of doubt gnawed at me as my mother’s eyes lifted from the book in her lap to meet mine.

Her expression—genuine surprise widening her gaze—wasn’t the calculated performance I would’ve expected if she’d been in on Celeste’s little scheme.

“Sera?” Her voice caught, halfway between disbelief and something softer, almost tentative.

The sound pressed against a bruise inside me I didn’t want to examine.

“I—I was worried,” I said, the words tumbling out sharper than I intended. “Celeste said you were hospitalized. We came straight from the island.”

Her gaze softened, and she gently set her glass down on her bedside table, next to a bowl of fruit salad. “You came... for me?”

I exhaled slowly and stepped closer. “How are you feeling?”

She smoothed her robe, as though embarrassed by the attention. “A spell, that’s all. The doctors insist it’s nothing serious. Exhaustion, a touch of dehydration...age creeping in where I wish it wouldn’t.”

Relief pricked through me again, but it came tangled with bitterness.

I had left Daniel’s laughter and love behind on sunlit sand for this?

Celeste’s ploys never failed to rob me of peace, but she might have well and truly crossed the line this time.

Margaret gestured to the chair beside her bed. “Sit with me, Seraphina.”

I hesitated, but courtesy—or maybe exhaustion of my own—guided me into the seat.

The silence between us pressed tight, awkward in its restraint. My mother glanced at me, then away, as if she didn’t know where to begin.

“And Daniel?” she asked at last, her voice gentler than I remembered. “How’s my boy?”

My chest eased despite myself. I could never hold ugly emotions where Daniel was concerned. “He’s thriving. He’s grown taller these past weeks, I swear. And he never tires of the beach—collecting shells, building fortresses in the sand, surfing the waves—” I caught myself before I rambled on.

She didn’t need the litany of small joys I hoarded like rare pearls. My mother and I didn’t do small talk like this. It was too strange and uncomfortable to continue.

Her lips curved faintly. “He always did remind me of your father. Sprightly and venturesome.” She chuckled softly. “You could plop the man in an ice cave in the middle of nowhere and return to find a glacial wonderland.”

I froze.

It wasn’t so much the mention of my father, but how she’d done it—like we were a normal family reminiscing. Like we were united in our grief.

Like the husband she’d loved and the father who loathed me were somehow the same person.

“Maybe,” I murmured.

I blinked. “As...a family.” 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

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