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Jenna Brooks’s POV

For the next few days, I stayed glued to Mum’s side. It had already been six days since the doctor told us she had a few more days to live. Auntie Laurel had arrived in Cronners yesterday to be there for us. Then she had apologized for not telling me about Mum’s condition. She had said she had kept it from me because Mum didn’t want me to know. It didn’t stop me from hating her though, she literally kept the fact that my Mum was dying, from me.

I sat in the ICU, looking at Mum—to savor her, to remember her. But at the same time, I didn’t want to remember her like this. So every time I looked at her, within moments, I looked away again.

Sometimes I’d force myself to grab her hands and tell her I loved her and that I was here for her, but most of the time I wasn’t strong enough to do that.

So instead, I sat in the chair in a corner, and I looked at her occasionally, but otherwise I looked out the window and tried not to break down.

My phone beeped with a text