Scorned and Reborn

Mary's eyes fluttered open, the dim light casting shadows across the room. As her vision cleared, she saw a familiar figure standing nearby, tall and composed. Asher's gaze was steady, yet filled with something she couldn't quite place. He seemed almost… protective.

"How long have I been out?" she murmured, her voice hoarse as she sat up, glancing around the room that felt both familiar and foreign.

Asher took a small step closer, his voice low and calm. "Just a day, Mary. You needed rest."

She scanned her surroundings, realizing with a strange pang that she was in her old bedroom the one she hadn't seen in years. The room was a frozen moment from her past, untouched, like her absence had preserved its every detail. Her gaze lingered on the bookshelves, the bed with its soft, patterned quilt, and the framed photographs she had left behind. She swallowed hard, fighting the surge of memories.

"Asher…" she began hesitantly, "why am I here? Where's my father?"

Asher's expression softened, but there was something grave in his eyes. "He's in the hospital, Mary. He's… not doing well. It's serious."

A chill gripped her as the weight of his words sank in. "What happened?" Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear creeping up her spine.

Asher hesitated, then sighed, his voice a careful blend of sympathy and urgency. "He has heart cancer, Mary. He's been struggling for a while… He's asked to see you."

The words hit her like a wave, each one leaving an ache in its wake. She hadn't spoken to her father in years, not since she had fled from the life he tried to trap her in. The memories of their strained relationship came flooding back the boarding school, the cold distance, and finally, the ultimatum he'd issued: marry into a family of his choosing or face being cut off completely. She had chosen freedom, leaving behind the comfort and security of her past for a chance to live life on her terms. Now, though, the thought of seeing him so vulnerable tugged at something deep within her.

She looked up at Asher, her face etched with conflicted emotions. "Does he know I'm here?"

Asher nodded. "He's been waiting for you, Mary. He doesn't have much time. You should go to him."

For a moment, Mary felt her legs refuse to move, as if the weight of her past kept her rooted to the spot. But after a deep breath, she nodded. "Take me to him, Asher."

The hospital was eerily silent, each step down its pristine, white corridors sending a shiver up her spine. She barely noticed the bustling staff or the soft hum of machines around her; her mind was awash with memories she'd tried for years to bury. The last time she'd been home, her father had barely looked at her. In his eyes, she had been little more than a piece in his grand strategy, a means to secure a partnership with a wealthy ally. He'd never seemed to understand, or perhaps care, about her own dreams, her desire for independence.

She was drawn back to reality as they arrived outside his room. Her hand hovered over the door handle, hesitation mingling with anxiety. Asher placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his presence a quiet reminder that she didn't have to face this alone.

"You're stronger than you think," he said gently.

She gave him a faint nod, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

The room was dim, filled with the beeping of monitors and the soft, sterile scent of antiseptics. Her father lay in the hospital bed, his face gaunt and pale, his once-powerful frame weakened by illness. But as his gaze met hers, his eyes lit up, a flicker of warmth breaking through the lines of pain etched across his face.

"Mary…" he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

She took a shaky step forward, then another, until she was by his side, reaching out to hold his hand. The years of silence between them felt tangible, a heavy presence in the room, but she could see a softness in his gaze she hadn't seen before. The man who had once seemed so unbreakable was now just… a father, seeking forgiveness.

"I didn't think you'd come," he admitted, his voice wavering with exhaustion.

She swallowed hard, her own voice tight with emotions she hadn't expected to feel. "I wasn't sure I would, either."

There was a pause, the silence filled with unspoken words. He reached up, his hand trembling as he placed it over hers, his touch light but desperate.

"I… I know I wasn't the father you deserved," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I pushed you…tried to control your life. I thought I was doing what was best, but I see now… I lost you."

Mary's throat tightened. Part of her wanted to let her resentment pour out, to remind him of the years of hurt and the loneliness she had endured because of his choices. But as she looked down at him, so frail and remorseful, those words dissolved.

"I'm here now," she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper.

A faint smile touched his lips, but it was fleeting. He closed his eyes, his breathing labored as if even the smallest of movements drained him. Mary squeezed his hand, grounding him in the moment, letting him know she was by his side.

Suddenly, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor grew erratic, the sharp, shrill sounds tearing through the room. Her father's grip on her hand tightened briefly, his eyes flickering open, filled with a fear that mirrored her own.

"Dad…" she whispered, her voice breaking as nurses and doctors rushed into the room, pushing her gently aside.

Her heart pounded as she backed against the wall, watching in helpless agony as the medical team surrounded him, working desperately to stabilize him. The room was a storm of frantic movements and urgent commands, each second stretching unbearably.

The sounds of the machines blurred, fading into a hollow hum in her ears. All she could see was the pale, unmoving figure on the bed the man who had been so much to her, both good and bad, slipping further and further away.

"Mary…" she barely heard Asher's voice as he reached out to her, pulling her back into reality.

She turned to him, her expression shattered, the weight of the moment crushing her. Before she could say a word, the machines fell silent. A deafening quiet settled over the room, punctuated only by the soft, defeated sigh of the lead doctor.

The nurse slowly pulled the sheet up over her father's face, her gestures gentle but final. Mary felt as though the world had collapsed around her, leaving her alone in an endless, empty void.

Asher guided her out of the room, his arm a steadying presence around her shoulders. She barely noticed where he was leading her; her mind was a whirl of grief, regret, and memories she could no longer escape.