Cast sighs again, but this time it’s more exasperation than theatrics. “If he’s about to piss you off, tell me now so I can handle it.”

I shoot him a dry look. “When is Damiennotabout to piss meoff?”

Cast chuckles, but his grip on me lingers a moment longer, his thumb brushing over my jaw like he’s committing the feel of me to memory. “Come on Cariña, it can’t be that bad.”

“Trust me,” Damien whistles. “It’s bad.”

Damien pushes the wheelchair into my room, and the moment I see her, my entire body locks up.

My mother is sitting beside my bed, her thin hands folded in her lap, her face pale and drawn. She looks weaker than the last time I saw her—like whatever sickness is eating away at her has only gotten worse.

And I don’t care.

Ican’tcare.

I grip the arms of the wheelchair, my fingers digging in. “What thehellis this?” My voice is sharp, cutting through the sterile air of the room. I whip my head toward Damien, fury bubbling under my skin. “Who the hell said you could bring her here?”

Damien just leans against the wall, unfazed as always. “Figured you two should talk.”

I let out a harsh laugh. “Talk? Now? Afterweeksof ignoring her?” I shake my head, my heart slamming against my ribs. “You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

“She’s your mother, Willow.” His voice is still light, but there’s a weight behind it, a firmness that dares me to challenge him. “And you’re about to go into surgery. Didn’t seem right for you to do it without at least facing her first.”

I don’t miss the way Cast tenses beside me, the way his grip on the wheelchair’s handle tightens. He doesn’t like this either. Good. At least someone is on my side.

I snap my gaze to my mother, forcing myself to meet her eyes. They’re glassy, tired. The same as they’ve always been. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She exhales, a fragile motion, like even breathing is a struggle. “Willow?—”

“No.” My voice shakes, but I don’t let it falter. “I don’t want to hear it.”

A beat of silence stretches between us. Then Damien sighs, pushing off the wall and stepping toward the door. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

I whip my head toward him, my stomach twisting. “Don’t youdare?—”

But the door clicks shut before I can finish, leaving me trapped in a room with the one person I never wanted to face again.

Octavia’s voice cracks slightly as she speaks again, the vulnerability in it raw. “I don’t have much time, Willow. Ineedto know you before it’s too late. I need to know the woman you’ve become, the person you are now.”

I feel the heat rise in my chest, the anger boiling over, hot and sharp. “You want toknowme now? Whoop-dee-fucking-do.” My voice rises, louder than I intend, but I can’t hold it back. “You want to know me now that you’re dying? What do you think you’re gonna get out of that?”

Her eyes fill with regret, fear, desperation. “I know I messed up, Willow. I know I wasn’t there for you. But I can’t go, knowing I didn’t even try to?—”

“No!” The word rips from me, jagged and harsh. “You don’t get to waltz in here and pretend like you can just pick up where you left off. You left me todrown in my sorrow, and now, all of a sudden, you care? You care because you’rescaredof dying, not because you ever give a damn about me.”

I can feel the tears starting to burn in my eyes, but I won’t let them fall. Not now. Not for her.

She stands, her frail body trembling, her hands shaking as she reaches for me. “Willow, please. Don’t do this. I’ve spent my whole life pushing you away, but I’m begging you—let me in now. I need to know my daughter before I’m gone. I’m begging you, please don’t shut me out. Not like this.”

“You don’t get to beg now!” My voice cracks, the words slipping out in a choked sob. I shake my head, anger and hurt pouring out of me in waves. “You made your choices! You chose everything over me, overus! And now you think you can justdecideto be a mother when you’re about to die? You don’t get to come in here and try to make up for all the years you took from me.”

I stand, fists clenched at my sides, feeling the rage boil over like lava, too hot to control. “I don’t need you. I neverneededyou. ”

Octavia’s face crumples, her frail body trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. “I never wanted to leave you, Willow. I didn’t know how to be the mother you needed.”

“Bullshit,” I hiss.

“No, it’s the truth.” Her voice wavers and I almost feel a need to pull her into my chest and hold her. “Your father never wanted you to know this, but there was a time you wouldn’t stop crying. You were three or four, and I was exhausted.”