The car fell into a suffocating silence. Olivia didn’t know how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, Tyler’s voice broke the stillness, low and weary.
“How great would it be if Naomi were as healthy as you.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts. There was a weariness etched into his features, and the worry between his brows was palpable. It almost seemed like he was saying that, if given the choice, he would prefer Naomi to be the one who thrived.
Olivia’s lips pressed together in a tight line. She didn’t know how to respond to his statement. All she could do was sit there, head bowed, guilt gnawing at her insides. She looked somber, a feeling of emptiness threatening to swallow her whole.
But deep down, she clung to the belief that Naomi’s illness wasn’t her fault. It couldn’t be. Could it?
When Olivia was younger, she had overheard a conversation that now haunted her thoughts. When the Jones family had taken her in, Naomi’s mother had taken her to see a fortune teller. The woman had spoken of a curse—how a family should not have two daughters. It wasn’t a message meant for Olivia, but for Naomi. And yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if it meant something for her too.
Her mother had died when Olivia was young, and with no one else to care for her, her father had been forced to bring her into the fold of the family. Tyler had to have heard about that cursed prophecy. He must have.
Her heart felt like an empty hourglass, the sands of time slipping through her fingers, leaving only the hollow ache of regret. The emptiness inside her widened, gnawing at her insides. Was she the cause of Naomi’s illness? Had her existence somehow cursed her sister’s life?
She hesitated as she reached for the car door, frozen in the moment. The fear and guilt tangled inside her, making her hesitate to leave the vehicle. She was terrified—terrified of what Naomi might say, terrified of what Tyler might think.
Sensing her silence, Tyler seemed to realize he had said something wrong. He turned to her, his voice softening slightly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad,” he said. His words were warm, but Olivia could sense the subtle distance beneath them.
He added, almost gently, “Come on. I’m sure your sister misses you.”
With that, Tyler got out of the car first, his tall figure casting a long shadow against the bright hospital lights. He was composed, as always. His tall frame, slim waist, and confident posture exuded the authority of a man used to running a successful business.
But Olivia wasn’t paying attention to that. Her mind was still in turmoil. She followed him numbly, her steps faltering as they neared the ward.
When they stepped inside, Naomi’s startled gaze immediately fell on them. She was lying in bed, her frail body almost swallowed by the blankets, her eyes wide with confusion. “Olivia?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Olivia hadn’t expected Naomi to sound so vulnerable. Naomi, always the strong one, always the picture of health and perfection, now looked fragile and small. And yet, the surprise on her face mirrored Olivia’s own confusion—she hadn’t expected to see Tyler and Olivia together.
Before Olivia could even find the words to explain, Tyler stepped forward smoothly, his calm and collected manner taking over. He shrugged off his jacket, holding it loosely in his hands, and offered an explanation with ease.
“I bumped into her on the way here,” he said casually, his voice deep and steady. “So, I brought her along.”
He stood tall in his black slacks and shirt, his posture exuding confidence. It wasn’t just his physical stature—there was an aura about him, a kind of quiet command that came from years of success. He had the composure of someone used to handling difficult situations, but this—this felt different. This wasn’t business. This was personal.
Olivia couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly Tyler controlled the moment. Naomi didn’t seem to question it. She simply nodded, though Olivia could see the confusion lingering in her sister’s eyes.
Olivia stood there in the doorway, feeling small and insignificant. She couldn’t find her voice. What was she supposed to say? What could she say?