Chapter 48

The fluorescent lights hummed, casting a sterile glow over the white walls of the hospital room. Hilary blinked, the harshness of the light assaulting her eyes. She tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through her chest, forcing her back down. She was in a hospital bed, her body wired to machines that beeped rhythmically, a constant reminder of her frailty.

The door creaked open, and her mother, a woman whose wrinkles seemed to have deepened overnight, rushed in. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were red and puffy. Hilary felt a pang of guilt, a familiar sensation that had become her constant companion.

"Hilary, sweetheart, you scared the life out of us!" Her mother’s voice was strained, her tone laced with worry. "Why didn’t you eat anything? You’re so thin! It's not healthy, you know."

Hilary's throat tightened. The same question, the same judgment. It was a refrain that had echoed through her life, a symphony of concern disguised as criticism. "I'm fine, Mom," she m