I sat on the chair next to my mom's hospital bed, holding onto her hand and pressing it on my cheek as I watch her breathe in her unconscious state. It's been six days since I've been anywhere but here. I'd sometimes talk to my dad only about Jonathan and mom's state since Dr. Fhassan has been talking to him, going into every detail about what happened and what's happening with her.

I could feel my body slowly shutting down from not getting enough sleep and barely eating any proper food because I couldn't take my eyes away from the sight of my mom even for just a minute or two.

My eyes slowly start to flutter shut as I shake my head to try my best to stay awake. The thought is that if ever my mom decides to wake up at any time, I need to be conscious. I feel a nudge on my arm, sending jolts into my body as I turn my head back, seeing my dad handing me a sandwich by my shoulder.

"You should eat. Go home and get some rest," He says as I turn my head back to look at mom.

"I'm not hungry and I'm not leaving," I deadpanned.

"I told you I'll be here, watching over her."

"Can't honestly trust you with that since you keep leaving us for the past few years without ever hearing anything back from you."

"Aaren," he says. "Look, son-"

I turned my head back and looked at him with disgust, "Don't call me that," I say as I shake my head as my jaw tightens and my brows knitted together because of the way he called me just.

"Aaren, I'm trying to be better this time. I really am. I can't really show you how sincere I am because you wouldn't even let me," I could sense the irritation in his voice almost rising to full volume.

I pushed myself off the chair, standing up, "When someone leaves without notice and comes back than promises to stay but ends up leaving again without notice—repeating that cycle for almost three times, I don't think there's any place to build some form of trust any more."

He looks at me with his sorry eyes. Those eyes. Those same eyes that my mom used to tell me where I got from. I hated them. I hated mine. I hated the fact that my eyes resembled his.

"I've watched my mom cry herself to sleep. I've watched my mom hoping for you to come back. I've listened to mom blame herself for what may have caused you to abandon us—to abandon her. She's been sick even before when you're gone- "

"-But I'm back. I'm here now," He tried grabbing my hand, making me step back. "That's what should matter, right?"

I shake my head, "I don't want to be comfortable with the idea that you're back again knowing that you might leave again without notice, like you always do," I stare at him and chuckled bitterly, "It's like a trademark of yours that planted a trauma in me."

I hear my mom groaning on the bed, faintly speaking my name. I turn around and I felt her hand squeezing mine as I immediately pressed the button on top of her head, calling for the nurse and Dr. Fhassan.

I looked at my dad, and he returned my gaze. He was about to open his mouth to say something but was interrupted when Dr. Fhassan comes rushing inside the room along with a nurse tailing behind him. I watch as Dr. Fhassan scans my mother's vitals and the nurse scribbles something on her clipboard, then I watch my dad leave the room as his phone begins to ring.

I leaned back in the chair and smiled at her as she returned my smile, her hand caressing my left cheek as I stopped yearning for her touch to be alive. I swallowed the lump that was stuck in my throat and held back the tears of relief that threatened to break like a torrent.

"How are you? How's my baby?" The softness from her voice almost wanted a part of me to break and offer a piece of energy for her.

"I'm okay now that you're awake," I told her as I caress her head and brushed the ends of her hair with my fingers.

Ever since that night my dad messaged me, telling me that Mom had fainted because of a nosebleed, I've been terrified because the first thought that came to mind was that I may lose her during those few minutes of being away from her, and I couldn't stop myself from thinking too much and worrying too much.

I've kept my feelings bottled up even though I desperately wanted to break down in tears but couldn't because it didn't feel right to do so.

"Dr. Fhassan told me that they finally found a donor for you, isn't that great? You're finally going to get better," I smiled as I heard my voice crack a little and felt a tear cascading down my cheek.

My mom furrows her eyebrows, her smile turning upside down, "Oh, baby. You must've been so tired." I hugged her and buried my face in the crook of her neck, "It's okay. Let it out. I'm here."

She whispers into my ear and I felt my whole body giving up from the whole façade of acting tough. It still felt wrong but at the same time, it felt great to release them, not knowing that I had bottled them up to the brim of my cup.

"And thank God for you father," I sniffed as she spoke. "He's donating his kidney for me."

I break myself free from her warmth and stared at her, completely baffled. Her gaze was fixated on my hair while she fixed it. Then her eyes met mine, and I noticed how her eyes twinkled with the genuine smile on her lips.

"W-What do you mean?"

"He wanted to give his kidney to me, so that was one of the reasons he came back to truly stay. He contacted Dr. Fhassan about it before coming home that day, and during your previous absence, we were in and out of the hospital for testing before receiving confirmation that his kidney matched mine."

I blinked my eyes, "So, you knew ever since? And I never knew for a month?" I asked, "And were you ever planning to tell me that?"

She nods her head, "I tried several times, but you wouldn't stay long enough to even look at me, much alone have a conversation with me knowing when your father was present in the room."

"You knew I've grown hatred towards him ever since he left you," I say, hearing the tone of my voice getting sharp and loud.

"I know and your feelings are valid, believe me," She says, "But you have to trust that your father really means that he wants to make it up to you and stick around this time."

I kept my mouth shut since I knew I couldn't say anything nice.

"I also know that it's hard for you and your dad can be a dick sometimes," she says as she smiles.

"Sometimes?"

She rolls her eyes, "Most of the time," she corrected herself. "But despite that, he's a really great guy. I didn't love him for nothing and you know that, right?"

"Just let him stick around and watch him be a man of his word this time and if he doesn't, I'll give you the right to punch your father in the face," Mom added, making me crack up a smile. She cups my cheeks, "Trust takes a long time. It's like a flower. It needs patience; it needs to grow."

I look at her in the eyes and hold her gaze, knowing that I felt safer there than being in here in the reality.

"Take all the time you need for it to grow. I trust your father and I know I've said that many times but I do. I couldn't just not love him and I couldn't just hate him when he gave me you and Jonathan."

Dad once planted a seed of love in me, making the kid in me, thirsty, and then he left a garden, leaving me without sunlight. When he returned, he sowed a new seed of trauma, which only grew into hatred for him. But mom was right, it does need patience for trust to grow and all she ever does is be patient. As for me, I still have a huge garden and empty spaces that are ready for new seeds to sow and be occupied.