Siara's pov
One week later…
Currently, I’m lying on my bed, staring at the white ceiling while thinking about the beautiful moments I spent with my mom and grandparents.
I had just returned from college, and it was… tiring.
As a medical student, I barely get time for anything besides studying, which is honestly a good thing because it keeps me distracted. I would rather spend my time drowning in work than be left alone with my thoughts.
Right now, I’m thinking about the conversation Mom and I had two days before her death.
Flashback…
I was sitting beside Mom’s bed while she was in the bathroom throwing up.
I was exhausted.
I hadn’t slept properly for the past two days, and honestly… I was scared.
Scared of everything.
Lost in my thoughts, I heard the bathroom door click open.
Mom slowly walked into the room.
Her skin looked pale…
So pale.
She had lost so much weight during the past six months.
I quickly stood up and helped her back to bed. Once she lay down comfortably, I held her hand tightly.
For some reason, feeling her hand in mine gave me relief.
At least she was still here with me.
“Have you eaten?” Mom asked softly.
I shook my head.
“Why?” she questioned.
“I’m not hungry,” I replied honestly.
Whenever I’m anxious or stressed, I lose my appetite completely.
“I’m fine. You should take care of yourself,” she said gently. “If you don’t eat properly, you’ll get sick too.”
I just stared at her silently, my throat tightening with all the words I refused to say.
Because if I spoke… I might break down completely.
But then her next question froze me in my place.
“Why have you never asked me about your father?”
She looked directly into my eyes while asking that.
“You are enough for me. I don’t need anyone else besides you,” I replied.
And honestly, that wasn’t entirely a lie.
But the real reason was that I already knew who my father was.
Mom probably thought I knew nothing, but she was wrong.
I knew almost everything.
When I was ten years old, I saw my birth certificate for the first time.
That was when I noticed my father’s name written on it—
Alexander King.
Later, I overheard one of Mom’s conversations with Grandma on the phone. She was talking about how she and Alexander had dated during high school, but something happened between them and they lost contact afterward.
After their breakup, Mom returned to India, where she found out she was pregnant with me.
Nine months later, I was born.
She was only eighteen years old when she had me, which means my father was probably a teenager too.
As I grew older, I started researching more about him because a small part of me hoped that maybe… if he found out about us—
About me—
We could become a happy family.
But I was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
My father wasn’t an ordinary man.
He was a fucking billionaire.
The owner of King Enterprises.
I read countless articles about him. Most of them described him as arrogant, rude, and emotionally cold — a man who barely acknowledged anyone besides himself.
I had seen photos of him too.
He was handsome.
Powerful.
Perfect.
There were pictures of him smiling beside his family, looking happy and complete.
And I don’t know why, but those photos made me feel insecure.
Because while Mom and I were struggling just to survive life…
He was out there living his best one.
That was the moment I decided I didn’t need my father in my life.
I was perfectly happy with my mother.
“Where are you lost?” Mom asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Nothing… I was just thinking about something,” I replied quietly.
“Alexander…” she paused for a moment, “…he is your father.”
She looked at me carefully while I remained silent.
“He doesn’t know about you because we had already broken up by then. I wanted to tell him about you, but I never gathered enough courage… especially after seeing that he had already moved on with his life.”
She smiled weakly before continuing.
“But I moved on too… with you.”
“You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
My chest tightened painfully hearing her say that.
“If something ever happens to me—”
“Mom—” I immediately tried to stop her.
But she gave me a look that forced me to stay quiet.
“Then I want you to contact your father,” she continued softly. “I know you’re my brave girl, and you can manage yourself very well… but if you ever feel like things are falling apart, I want you to go to him.”
She paused before whispering,
“I know he will help you.”
“Promise me.”
I didn’t want to promise her anything related to him because deep down, I knew I would never contact that man.
But for her…
I nodded.
“I promise.”
“His contact details are in my diary along with some of his photos,” she told me weakly.
I nodded again.
“Now take some rest,” I said softly while tucking the blanket around her carefully.
“You should eat something first,” she replied. “And then get some sleep. I know you haven’t eaten anything for hours.”
“Okay. Good night, Mom.”
“Good night, Ira.”
Flashback Ends…
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