Sincerity 88_Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left

88 

 Sienna’s POV

 The VIP hospital room felt far too quiet, with only the ticking of the wall clock and the asional drip of the IV breaking the silence. I leaned back on the bed, the white nket covering my still–weak body. My stomach still ached from the appendicitis, though the doctor had said my condition was improving. I thought everything would feel ordinary after this–I would rest, recover, and go home. But what I never expected was how Liam had been here the entire day.

 He sat on the small sofa in the corner of the room, still in his long–sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. From time to time, his gaze shifted toward me, as if watching over my every move. Since this morning, he had been the one who brought me breakfast ording to the doctor’s orders, the one who made sure I took my medicine on time, even the one who adjusted my pillow whenever the pain returned. And the strangest thing of all I couldn’t stop this feeling inside me.

 This VIP room was supposed to make mefortable–with its clean white walls, soft bed, and the best care from the nurses. Yet somehow, I felt trapped. Not because of the pain in my stomach, not because of the ever–present antiseptic smell in the hospital air. What unsettled me was Liam, who hadn’t left the

 room even once.

 Every time I nced at him, he was still there. Sitting quietly, yet never truly calm. His eyes always found their way back to me, as though making sure I was still breathing. His movements were simple–opening the thermos of soup the nurse had delivered, pouring water into a ss, straightening my nket when it slipped–but every small act made my chest heavy. Heavy, because I knew I wasn’t used to being cared for this much.

 Liam always looked steady–too stubborn to push away, too patient to dismiss. I had tried, again and again, to create distance, even with sharp words I had thrown at him deliberately. Yet he remained. As if he didn’t care about my resistance. As if, for him, the only thing that mattered now was making sure I was all right.

 I turned my face toward the window. The evening sky slowly shifted colors, orange light filtering through the thin curtains and spilling across the cold floor. A strange feeling stirred in my chest. Feelings I had long kept locked away, something I had always rejected out of fear. Fear that if I let them in, I would lose control of myself.

 I looked down at my weak hand resting on the nket. I could easily tell him to leave again, to insist that I could take care of myself. But the truth was I didn’t want to be alone. A part of me felt calmer just knowing Liam was here in the room. His presence gave me a sense of safety that no doctor’s reassurance could rece.

 I closed my eyes for a moment, hoping to sleep and escape this confusion. But then images of Liam preparing breakfast this morning reyed in my mind. His worried face when I refused to eat, the way he insisted I take at least a few spoonfuls of soup. All of it made me realize–I had already grown too used

 to him, more than I ever admitted.

 The ticking of the clock seeped into the silence. I slowly opened my eyes, ncing at him again. He had fallen asleep on the sofa, his body leaning to one side, his white shirt rumpled, his hair a little messy. Yet his face still carried a calmness that felt strangely unfamiliar to me.

 I bit my lower lip, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. It was strange. Wasn’t I supposed to be annoyed? Shouldn’t I be angry that he was interfering too much in my life? But what I felt now was the opposite–something warm swelling in my chest. Something terrifying, yetforting at the same time.

 For the first time since I had fallen ill, I allowed myself to feel not alone.

 “I can get it myself, Liam,” I said softly when he stood to pour water into a ss.

 “You’re still weak. Just sit.” His voice was calm, yet left no room for argument.

 I sighed, trying to appear strong. “I don’t like bothering people.”

 He walked closer, cing the ss on the small table beside me. “If it means making sure you’re not in pain, then I don’t mind being bothered.”

 The simple words struck me like an unexpected wave of warmth. I turned my face away, pretending to focus on the IV in my hand. I had always been used to handling everything on my own. This kind of attention felt foreign.

 Throughout the afternoon, I tried several times to refuse his help. When he offered to feed me soup, I said I could eat on my own. When he wanted to fix my nket, I told him not to. Yet each time, he would give me a faint smile and do it anyway, as if he knew I was only trying to protect the distance between us.

 “I don’t want you to tire yourself out by staying here all day,” I said as the evening crept in, hoping to gently push him away.

 “I’d be more tired if you were sick and I wasn’t here,” he replied instantly.

 I froze. His words sank deep, tightening my chest in ways I couldn’t exin. I wanted to respond, tough it off, but my voice caught in my throat.

 He sat back in the chair, but his body leaned toward me, his eyes steady, full of quiet intensity. “Sienna, you don’t have to pretend to be strong all the time.”

 I looked back at him, a little startled. “I’m not pretending.”

 “Then let me stay. No reason needed.”

 There was a silence that crept in after that. I lowered my gaze, clutching the edge of the nket. A small part of me wanted to scream that I was afraid of bing toofortable with all this. Liam’s attention

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 was something I had never thought I would receive from him. In the past, we were just two people crossing paths without ever really touching. And now, he was here, closing that distance little by little.

 He scooped up another spoonful of soup slowly. “Eat a little. You haven’t eaten since noon.”

 “I’m not hungry,” I replied quickly.

 “Then eat to put me at ease.” His tone was gentle, but full of resolve.

 I let out a quiet sigh, finally giving in. He fed me slowly, making sure the soup wasn’t too hot. His grip on the spoon was steady, his movements full of patience. I didn’t know if this was just the lingering effect of the medicine clouding my mind, or if it was because of the warmth in his gaze, but with every spoonful I swallowed, the walls I had built between us began to crack.

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Sincerity 88