The Alpha Biker's Healer의 모든 챕터: 챕터 81 - 챕터 90

Why was Ethan coming back?Why was he checking on my mom?Did it mean that he still cared about her? Or worse about me?The questions tangled together until they made my head ache. I let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp in the quiet room.“Why am I even thinking about this?” I whispered. “Why am I letting it affect me?”I knew the answer, and I hated how honest it was.Because I was afraid.Afraid that Ethan would find his way back into my life, back into my mother’s world. Afraid that old wounds would reopen, that old patterns would repeat themselves. Afraid that no matter how far I ran, the past would always catch up.“No,” I said aloud, firmer this time. “I won’t think about it.”I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling until my eyes burned. Eventually, exhaustion won. My thoughts blurred, and sleep pulled me under despite my resistance.The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, warm and intrusive. I groaned softly and turned my face away, then froze as yest

The question landed softly, almost casually, but it struck something raw inside me.I opened my mouth, then closed it again.What had I thought?That he wanted me to stay because I mattered?Because my presence eased something deeper than muscle memory and balance?Because somewhere along the way, between parallel bars and measured steps, I had become more than a professional necessity?Ridiculous.I let out a quiet laugh, the kind that carried no humor. “Nothing,” I said. “I didn’t think anything else.”He studied me for a moment, and I hated how perceptive he’d become. This version of Alpha Jaron, the patient one, the restrained one, noticed things I used to hide behind authority and hierarchy.“Then why are you distracted today?” he asked.There it was.I stiffened, my spine straightening as instinctively as his had during training. “I’m not distracted.”He raised an eyebrow.I sighed, defeated. “Fine. I am. But it has nothing to do with you.”“Everything that affects you during my

Kahlia Ford's POVThe next morning, I woke up to the dull gray light filtering through my bedroom window. My body felt heavier than usual, like the weight of yesterday had lingered through the night. I forced myself out of bed, letting the water from the shower wash over me, hoping the warmth would shake the tight knot of anxiety I didn’t yet realize was forming.I went through my routine, carefully brushing my hair, fixing myself, dressing neatly, trying to impose order on a morning that already felt unsettled.Then my phone rang. The screen displayed an unknown number, and my stomach dropped. Normally, I would ignore calls like this until I knew who it was, but something instinctively told me to answer.“Hello?” My voice sounded tentative, half-asleep, half-wary.“Kahlia,” said the familiar voice of Alpha Ethan. My heart lurched violently in my chest. “Your mother… she’s been rushed to the hospital.”For a moment, I didn’t respond. My mind froze, hoping against hope that this was so

I stayed in the hospital.Days passed, slow, cruel days that blurred together under fluorescent lights and the constant beeping of machines. Morning came and went without meaning. Night followed, darker and heavier, stretching endlessly as if time itself had decided to punish me.My mother did not wake up.Her condition remained the same. Stable, they said, but unconscious. The word stable felt like a lie doctors told families when they had nothing better to offer. She lay there, pale and still, wires tracing her skin like fragile lifelines, her chest rising only because a machine reminded her how.I barely left her side.Sleep became something distant, a memory of another life. When exhaustion dragged me down, I slept sitting upright in the stiff hospital chair, my fingers wrapped tightly around hers, afraid that if I let go, even for a moment, she would slip away. Every time my eyes closed, nightmares filled the darkness. I would wake with a gasp, heart racing, only to find her unch

The words echoed in my mind, sharp and dangerous, cutting through the fragile balance I had forced myself to maintain. Over. Alpha Ethan and Camille, over. I should have felt relief. Vindication. Something close to satisfaction.Instead, fear crept in.“Do not say things you do not mean,” I said quietly, pulling away from his touch at last. “Not now. Not here.”“I never say things I do not mean,” Ethan replied, his voice low, steady, maddeningly sincere. “Especially not to you.”I stood abruptly, turning my back to him and facing my mother again, as if she were the only anchor keeping me from drifting into something I could not afford. My fingers tightened around the railing of the bed.“This is not the time,” I repeated. “My mother is lying here between life and death. I do not have room for your truths.”He did not argue. That unsettled me more than anger ever could.“I understand,” he said after a long pause. “I will wait.”Wait.The word tasted bitter. He had waited before. Waited