Sincerity 91_Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left

Sienna’s POV

 I nodded, trying to absorb everything he said. A wave of shame crept in, realizing how careless I had been with my own body.

 “So I really have to change my habits, right?” I muttered, half to myself.

 The doctor gave a faint smile. “Exactly. Think of it as an rm. Your body is asking for attention. If you care about yourself and the people who care about you take care of your health.”

 Those words sank deeper than I expected. The people who care about me. For a brief moment, Noah’s face crossed my mind, followed by the image of Liam, who had been by my side all these past days.

 I looked back at the doctor, hesitating before asking again, “If I feel tiredter, is that normal, Doctor? I mean, even after I recover, will my body still feel weak for a while?”

 “Completely normal,” he replied. “You’ll need time to regain your strength. Don’t rush back into full activity. Rest well, give your body time to adjust. The first two weeks after discharge are crucial.”

 I nodded, feeling calmer after hearing that reassurance.

 “Thank you so much, Doctor,” I said sincerely.

 The doctor closed the medical chart, then gave a warm smile. “You’re wee, Ms. Sienna. Tomorrow we’ll do a final evaluation, then I’ll prepare your discharge papers.”

 After the doctor and nurse left, silence once again wrapped the room. I leaned back against the pillows, staring out the window. Cars moved back and forth in the distance, the sun climbing higher. Small thoughts began to surface if I go home tomorrow, everything goes back to the way it was. No more Liam insisting on helping me, no more worried nces when I struggled to move, no more sound of his footsteps pacing back and forth to make sure I wasfortable.

 Honestly, I still don’t understand why he did all that. I know he cares, but the attention he’s given metely feels different. More genuine, warmer, and more consistent than I’ve ever seen from him. Even

 when I tried to push him away, he stayed. He still helped. He still insisted, in his gentle way.

 I took a deep breath. Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel relieved to return home, back to work, back to being the independent version of myself. But on the other hand I can’t deny that part of me will miss this. Miss the days when I felt cared for without asking. Miss having someone who, somehow, always knew when I needed him.

 I nced at the nightstand beside the bed. Myptopy there, neatly set with the charger wrapped around it. Slowly, I reached for it, feeling the light pull in my abdomen each time I bent forward. The pain was still there, a sharp reminder, but not strong enough to stop me.

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 “I need to finish this,” I whispered softly, almost as if to justify myself. The deadline had been waiting even before I copsed and was rushed to the hospital. If I missed it, my work could fall apart, my reputation could suffer. I didn’t want that to happen.

 As soon as theptop opened, the screen lit up with the document I hadst worked on before everything happened. My fingers hovered uncertainly over the keyboard. It felt like my brain was already tired before I even began. I knew my body needed rest. But at the same time, working gave me a sense of normalcy, a reminder that I still had control.

 I started typing, though my fingers moved more slowly than usual. Each keystroke sent a faint pulse of pain through my abdomen. I ignored it. I had long since grown used to ignoring pain both the physical kind, and the kind lodged deeper in my heart.

 My thoughts drifted briefly to Liam. He had left since morning, I didn’t know where. There were no messages, no word from him. Normally, I would feel relieved it meant I had time to myself but strangely the room felt quieter without him. I pushed the thought away and refocused on the screen.

 Word by word began to fill the page. There were moments when my vision blurred a little, but I forced

 myself to keep looking. I knew this wasn’t healthy. But I also knew that if I stopped now, the guilt would

 pile up deeper than the pain in my stomach.

 Every so often, I paused, took a deep breath, then typed again. The room was silent, the only sounds were

 the tapping of the keys and the low hum of the air conditioner. I tried to forget that I was in a hospital. I

 tried to convince myself that I was fine.

 In between writing, my eyes flicked toward the door. A part of me hoped Liam would walk in, bringing a cup of warm tea or simply telling me to stop working. But another part of me dreaded the idea of him actually catching me working when I was supposed to be resting. He would definitely scold me. And

 maybe I would listen, like I usually did.

 But for now, it was just me, theptop, and the dull ache in my stomach. I wrote, not because I was strong,

 but because I was afraid of looking weak. And somehow, it felt like the only way to hold myself together.

 I was engrossed in the screen, fingers dancing across the keyboard, chasing the deadline that loomed

 closer and closer. My mind was crowded with lines of sentences, making me lose track of time. The pain

 in my stomach asionally red, sharp and sudden, but I pushed through, sipping water every few

 minutes to keep my focus.

 A soft knock on the door jolted me. I turned, a little startled, as a nurse walked in, pushing a folding table with a tray on top. “Good afternoon, Ms. Sienna. Here’s your lunch,” she said with a warm smile.

 I blinked, processing her words. “Afternoon?” I murmured softly. I nced at the wall clock already past twelve. God, I hadn’t realized that much time had slipped by. It felt like I had only just opened myptop a 

 moment ago.

 The nurse came closer, setting the table beside the bed, then lifted the lid off the meal. The aroma of

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 warm soup immediately filled the air. “Don’t forget to eat, okay? If you let it sit, it’ll get cold,” she said as she adjusted the spoon and ss.

 I closed theptop slowly, realizing that the ache in my stomach was now mixed with hunger. “Thank you,” I said, my voice a little weak but sincere.

 She smiled again, then left, leaving me alone with my lunch. I let out a sigh, wondering how on earth I could forget to eat just because I was too absorbed in writing. Maybe Liam would scold me again if he found out.

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Sincerity 91