When Elon Musk opened a handwritten letter at his SpaceX office, his hands started shaking. Something his team had never seen before. The handwriting belonged to someone he hadn’t heard from in 25 years. Sienna Marlo, his first love, the girl who vanished without explanation when he was just 20 years old. The letter was short but powerful.
I need to see you. It’s about something that happened 25 years ago. Something you deserve to know. Meet me at Riverside Park in Ptoria this Saturday. This will change everything you thought you knew. Elon stared at those words. What could she possibly need to tell him after all this time? What secret had been hidden for a quarter of a century? He did something that shocked everyone.
He cleared his entire schedule and booked a flight to South Africa that same day. Because sometimes the past demands answers. And Elon Musk was about to discover a truth that would change his life forever. The rain hammered against the floor to ceiling windows of SpaceX headquarters like tiny fists demanding attention. Elon Musk barely noticed.
He stood before a massive screen displaying a rocket engine design, his finger tracing a line of code that refused to behave the way physics demanded. “Move the fuel intake valve 3 mm to the left,” he muttered to the engineer beside him. “The pressure differential is creating turbulence.” The engineer nodded, typing rapidly. Elon’s mind was already somewhere else.
Calculating, solving, building. This was his world. Clean, logical, controllable. His assistant, Margaret, appeared in the doorway. She’d worked for him for 7 years and knew better than to interrupt unless something truly mattered. She held a cream colored envelope in her hand like it might explode. Mr. Musk, this just arrived for you. Elon didn’t turn around. Put it with the other mail.
Sir, it’s different. It’s handwritten and it came through unusual channels. Security flagged it, but it’s clean. No threats, just personal. The word personal made Elon pause. He received thousands of letters, requests for money, business proposals, love letters from strangers, hate mail from people who thought billionaires were the root of all evil.
But Margaret wouldn’t bring him something unless it was truly unusual. He turned, extending his hand. The envelope felt heavy, expensive paper. His name was written across the front in handwriting that made his heart stopped midbeat. The Sharpie slipped from his other hand, clattering to the floor. “Sir, are you all right?” Margaret stepped forward, concerned.
Elon’s hands trembled, something his team of hundreds had never witnessed. The man who’d bet everything on electric cars when everyone said it was impossible. The man who’d promised to make humanity a multilanetary species. The man who stood before Congress, investors, and critics without flinching.

That man’s hands were shaking. I’m fine, he managed. Lee me. Margaret hesitated, then quietly closed the door behind her. Elon walked to his desk, sank into the chair, and stared at the envelope. The handwriting was unmistakable, slightly slanted to the right. The E in Elon with that distinctive loop at the top. The M in Musk with three perfect peaks.
Sienna Marlo. 25 years. 25 years since he’d seen that handwriting. Since he’d heard her voice. Since he’d felt like a complete human being instead of a machine built to solve problems and chase impossible dreams. His office suddenly felt too small, too warm. The rain outside seemed louder. His own breathing seemed louder.
With careful fingers, the same fingers that could assemble circuit boards and sketch rocket designs, he opened the envelope. Inside was a single piece of matching cream paper folded once. He unfolded it slowly, as if it might disappear if he moved too fast. The letter was brief. Elon, I need to see you. It’s about something that happened 25 years ago. Something you deserve to know.
I’ll be at Riverside Park in Ptoria this Saturday at 2 p.m. Please come alone. This will change everything you thought you knew. Sienna Elon read it three times. Then a fourth. His mind, the mind that processed information faster than most people could speak, went completely blank. Riverside Park, their place.
the bench under the jackaranda trees where they’d sat for hours young and broke and fearless talking about futures that seemed impossible where he’d told her about his dreams of Mars and she’d laughed not mockingly but with pure joy and said you’ll do it I know you will kissed him for the first time tasting like cheap coffee and possibility the memory hit him like a physical force he was 19 again awkward and too thin clutching textbooks he’d bought used because new ones cost too much.
Sienna had knocked her own coffee over, reaching for a book on the library shelf above him. The liquid had poured directly onto his physics homework. He’d looked up, ready to be angry, and found himself staring into dark brown eyes that seemed to actually see him. Not the weird kid who talked too much about computers.
Not the South African who didn’t quite fit in, just him. I’m so sorry, she’d said, grabbing napkins, trying to blot his ruined homework. I’m completely hopeless. Here, let me buy you another coffee, and I’ll help you redo the homework. I’m useless at physics, but I’m a great cheerleader. He’d fallen in love with her in that moment. It had taken three more months to tell her, but he’d known right then.
Elon blinked, returning to the present. his office, his company, his life that Sienna had never been part of, except she had been part of it. She’d been the foundation of it. Every rocket that launched, every car that rolled off the production line, every time someone said his ideas were crazy, he’d heard Sienna’s voice in his head saying, “Crazy is just a word people use when they can’t imagine what you can see.
” His computer dinged, a reminder that he had a board meeting in 20 minutes. then investor calls, then a production review, then a design session that would run until midnight. His schedule was blocked out for the next 6 months. Every day planned, every hour accounted for. Tesla needed him. SpaceX needed him.
His other companies needed him. The future of sustainable energy needed him. The future of space exploration needed him. Saturday was 3 days away. Elon looked at the letter again. This will change everything you thought you knew. What could she possibly mean? What had happened 25 years ago that he didn’t know about? His mind raced through possibilities.
Had she gotten married the day after he left? Had she become famous and he’d somehow missed it? Had something terrible happened? Had something wonderful happened? The not knowing was worse than any failed rocket launch. Elon opened his desk drawer and pulled out the only photograph he’d kept from those days. It was faded now, the colors washed out by time.
Sienna sat on a stone wall, her wild curly hair blowing in the wind, paint stains on her jeans, laughing at something he’d said. He stood beside her, young and hopeful, his arm around her shoulders like she might float away if he let go. They’d been so young, so broke, so happy.
“What didn’t you tell me?” he whispered to the photograph. He picked up his phone, pulled up his assistant’s number, and typed a message that would make his entire executive team think he’d lost his mind. Clear my schedule for the next week. All of it. Board meetings, investor calls, production reviews, reschedu everything, and book me on the next flight to Johannesburg.

He hit send before he could second guessess himself. 3 seconds later, his phone rang. Margaret. Sir, did you mean to send that message? Clear your entire schedule? Yes, but the Tesla earnings call is Thursday. The Space X board meeting is Friday. You have 17 appointments that took months to arrange. I know.
May I ask why? Elon looked at the letter at Sienna’s handwriting at the words that had appeared in his life like a comet from the past. I need to fix something I should have fixed 25 years ago. There was a long pause. Margaret had never heard him sound like this. Vulnerable, uncertain, almost afraid. I’ll handle everything, sir. When do you want to leave? Tonight. As soon as possible. I’ll have the jet ready in 2 hours.
Elon hung up and stood, walking back to the window. The rain was lighter now. Through the clouds, he could see a patch of blue sky. He thought about 19-year-old Elon boarding a plane to Stanford to America to his future. Sienna had driven him to the airport.
They’d held each other in the parking lot until the final boarding call. She’d whispered, “Go change the world. I’ll be right here when you come back.” But she hadn’t been there. One week after he’d arrived at Stanford, her email stopped. Her phone was disconnected. He’d called her parents frantic. her mother had said coldly, “Sienna has moved on with her life. I suggest you do the same.
” Then she’d hung up. He’d searched for 2 years, hired people to find her, found nothing. Eventually, he’d forced himself to move forward, built Zip 2, sold it, started XCOM, which became PayPal, sold that, started SpaceX and Tesla. He’d achieved everything he dreamed about on that bench under the jackaranda trees.
everything except understanding why the one person who’d believed in him first had vanished without explanation. Now 25 years later, she was asking him to come back. Elon pressed his hand against the cold window glass. Somewhere on the other side of the world, Sienna was waiting with a truth that would change everything.
“What didn’t you tell me, Sienna?” he whispered again. Outside, the rain stopped completely. The sun broke through the clouds, turning the wet parking lot into a field of scattered diamonds. Elon grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He had a plane to catch and a pass to finally confront. Whatever Sienna had to tell him, whatever had been hidden for 25 years, he was finally going to learn the truth, even if it destroyed him. The memories came flooding back as Elon’s private jet crossed over the African continent.
He tried to sleep, but gave up after an hour of staring at the cabin ceiling. Instead, he sat by the window, watching the darkness below, remembering 1999, University of Pritoria. Elon had been 19 years old and completely out of place.
While other students went to parties and football games, he spent his nights in the computer lab writing code until his eyes burned. During the day, he sat in the back of lecture halls, his mind racing with ideas that had nothing to do with the professor’s lessons. He was lonely in a way that felt permanent, like he’d been built wrong for the world he’d been born into.
The library had become his second home. It was quiet there, safe. He could spread out his physics books and programming manuals and dream about electric cars and rocket ships without anyone looking at him like he was crazy. That Tuesday afternoon in March had started like any other. Elon had balanced seven books in his arms.
Three on battery technology, two on aerodynamics, one on business, and one poetry book he’d grabbed by accident, but was too embarrassed to put back. He’d been reading about fuel efficiency when it happened. The coffee had appeared from above like a brown waterfall, splashing directly onto his careful notes and diagrams. He jumped up, watching ink blur and pages wrinkle, feeling his carefully controlled world tilt sideways. Oh no.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Elon had looked up, ready to unleash the anger that he kept buried under layers of awkward politeness. But the words died in his throat. The girl standing above him had wild curly dark hair that seemed to have its own ideas about gravity. Paint stains covered her hands blue and yellow and red, like she’d been fingerpainting with a rainbow.
Her jeans were ripped at the knees. Her t-shirt said, “Art is rebellion.” in handdrawn letters. But it was her eyes that stopped him. Deep brown, almost black, and completely horrified at what she’d done. “I’m so sorry,” she said, already grabbing napkins from her bag, dropping to her knees beside his soaked papers. “I’m completely hopeless.” I reached for a book and knocked my entire coffee over.
Here, let me help. Oh god, is this homework? Please tell me this isn’t due today. It’s It’s fine, Elon managed, though it clearly wasn’t fine. Two weeks of work were dissolving into brown sludge. It’s not fine. I’ve ruined everything.
She looked up at him, and something in her expression was so genuinely distressed that Elon felt his anger evaporate. “Let me buy you another coffee, and I’ll help you redo whatever this is. I’m useless at physics. I can barely understand gravity, but I’m excellent at moral support and bringing snacks. Elon blinked. You don’t have to do that. I absolutely have to do that. I’m Sienna, by the way.
Sienna Marlo, first year art student and apparently a danger to scientists everywhere. She stuck out her paint stained hand. He shook it carefully. Her grip was firm and warm. Elon. Elon Musk. Well, Elon Musk, I owe you coffee and apologies. Come on. She’d pulled him out of the library and to a tiny coffee shop two blocks away that Elon had never noticed.
It had mismatched chairs and tables that wobbled and art on the walls that made no sense. Sienna had ordered them both coffee and pastries that Elon suspected she couldn’t really afford based on how she counted her coins. “So,” she’d said, settling into a bright yellow chair that clashed with everything.
What were all those scary equations about? Battery technology, energy storage. I was calculating theoretical improvements to lithium-ion capacity. Okay, I understood three of those words. She’d smiled and Elon noticed she had a small gap between her front teeth. Why? Why? What? Why are you calculating battery stuff? Is it for class? No, it’s for me. I’m trying to figure out how to make electric cars actually work. Everyone says they’re impossible, but they’re not.
They’re just hard. The energy storage problem is the main barrier. But if we could increase battery efficiency by even 30%. He’d stopped, suddenly aware he was doing the thing everyone hated, talking too much, going too deep, being too intense about things that didn’t matter to normal people.
But Sienna was leaning forward, chin resting on her paint stained hands, eyes bright with interest. Don’t stop. What happens if you increase it by 30%. Elon had stared at her. You actually want to know? I asked, didn’t I? And just like that, Elon had started talking, really talking about electric cars and solar power and his crazy idea that humanity needed to become a multilanetary species.
About how Earth was precious but fragile and putting all our eggs in one planetary basket was insane. Sienna had listened to all of it. She’d ask questions, good questions that showed she was actually thinking about what he said. When he finally ran out of words an hour later, she’d sat back and grinned. “You’re going to change the world, Elon Musk.
” He’d laughed, embarrassed. “I’m probably just going to fail a lot and die broke.” “Nope, I can tell. I have a sense about people. You’re going to do everything you just said. Electric cars and Mars and all of it.” She’d pulled out a small sketchbook from her bag and started drawing.
You know what your problem is? Just one problem? You don’t believe in yourself as much as you believe in your ideas, but they’re the same thing. You are your ideas. Elon had watched her sketch, fascinated. Her hands moved with absolute confidence, creating lines and shapes that somehow became a face. His face. I believe in the physics, he’d said quietly. The math works.
The science is sound, but me personally, I’m just, I don’t know, weird, awkward. I don’t fit in anywhere. Sienna had looked up from her drawing. Good. The people who fit in perfectly never change anything. They’re too comfortable. It’s the weird, awkward ones who can’t stand the world as it is. Those are the ones who rebuild it.
Something in Elon’s chest had cracked open. He’d never told anyone these things before. never found anyone who didn’t look at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he’d asked. “Because you’re interesting and because I ruined your homework and I’m trying to make up for it.
And because she’d paused, considering because I think you’re going to be someone important, and someday I’ll tell people I spilled coffee on you before you were famous.” They’d stayed in that coffee shop until it closed. Then they’d walk through campus still talking. Sienna told him about her dreams of becoming a real artist.
Not just someone who made pretty pictures, but someone who made art that mattered. That changed how people saw the world. “We’re the same,” she’d said as they reached the library where they’d met. “You want to change the world with science? I want to change it with art. Different tools, same goal.” Elon had felt something he’d never felt before. Like he’d found his person, his people.
Even if it was just one person, it was enough. “Can I see you again?” he’d asked, terrified. She’d say, “No.” “You better. Someone needs to make sure you’re eating actual food and not just solving equations.” She’d scribbled her phone number on the back of the sketch she’d made, his face, but somehow more hopeful than he’d ever seen himself. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll get dinner. Something cheap and probably terrible.
” She’d walked away, her curly hair bouncing with each step, and Elon had stood there holding a drawing of himself made by a girl who’d known him for 3 hours and somehow saw him more clearly than anyone ever had. He called her the next day and the day after that and the day after that. Within 2 weeks, they were inseparable.
Sienna would paint in the studio while Elon coded in the computer lab, and they’d meet for late dinners at street vendor carts, eating curry and chips that cost almost nothing. They’d walk through Ptoria at night arguing about everything. Art versus science, emotion versus logic, dreams versus reality. Except they weren’t really arguing. They were building something. A shared language, a shared vision of a future that could be better than the present.
One month after meeting her, Elon had taken Sienna to Riverside Park. It was free, which mattered when you were a broke student. They’d sat on a wooden bench under massive jackaranda trees. purple blossoms falling around them like rain. “Tell me your real dreams,” Sienna had said. “Not the practical ones, the impossible ones.” So Elon had told her everything.
The electric car company he wanted to build, the private space company that would make humanity multilanetary, the solar revolution, the high-speed transportation tubes, all of it. Most people laughed or nodded politely while clearly thinking he was delusional, but Sienna had grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Promise me something. What? When you do all of this, when you change the world and prove everyone wrong, promise you won’t forget the person you were right now.
This moment when you’re broke and scared and brave enough to dream anyway. I promise, Elon had whispered. Then she’d kissed him soft and quick, tasting like the cheap cola they’d shared. When she pulled back, she was smiling. I needed to do that before you became too famous to kiss. They’d stayed together on that bench until the park closed, watching stars appear in the darkening sky, planning futures that seemed impossible.
Elon had fallen completely, irreversibly in love. The next months were the happiest of his life. Poor but happy, struggling but happy, uncertain about everything except each other. Sienna made him feel human. not just a brain solving problems, but a whole person with feelings and fears and hopes. She’d listen to him talk about rocket fuel mixtures and battery chemistry, then make him listen to her explain color theory and the emotional weight of different brush strokes. She’d painted him a picture for his 20th birthday.
It showed a man made of stars reaching upward, touching the cosmos. She titled it the man who touched stars. This is you, she’d said, presenting it in their tiny shared apartment, two rooms they’d moved into together, splitting the already cheap rent. This is who you’re going to be. I’m just a student, Sienna.
Not forever. I see it, Elon. Everyone else sees a weird kid who talks too much about Mars. I see the man who’s going to take us there. 3 months later, everything changed. Elon got accepted to Stanford for his PhD program, his ticket to America, his chance to actually build the future he’d been dreaming about.
Sienna got accepted to an art residency in Cape Town, her chance to study with real masters, to become the artist she was meant to be. They’d sat in their apartment, acceptance letters on the table between them, both terrified. “We can make this work,” Elon had said. “Long distance, phones, emails. I’ll visit whenever I can. It’s expensive flights between continents. I’ll work it out, Sienna. I can’t lose you. You won’t. This is good for both of us.
We chase our dreams and we stay together. We can do both. They’d spent the next week’s planning. Elon would leave first. His program started in September. Sienna’s residency began in October. one month apart. Then they’d be in their respective places, working toward their respective futures, but together.
The last day before Elon’s flight had been perfect and terrible. They’d gone back to Riverside Park to their bench under the jackaranda trees. The blossoms were falling, carpeting the ground in purple. I’m terrified, Elon had admitted. Of Stanford, of losing you, of this being the beginning of the end. Sienna had taken his face in her paint stained hands.
They were always paintstained now. He’d grown to love it. Listen to me, Elon Musk. You’re going to go to America. You’re going to start companies. You’re going to build rockets and electric cars and everything else you’ve dreamed about. And I’m going to become an artist, a real one. And we’re going to figure this out because some things are worth fighting for. Promise.
Promise. They’d kissed under falling purple blossoms, holding each other like the world might end if they let go. Sienna had driven him to the airport the next morning. They’d stood in the parking lot, arms around each other, neither wanting to be the first to pull away. This isn’t goodbye, she’d whispered. This is just see you soon.
I’ll email you the second I land. I’ll email you back immediately. I love you, Sienna Marlo. I love you, Elon Musk. Now go, go touch the stars. He’d kissed her one more time, grabbed his single suitcase, and walked into the airport without looking back because he knew if he looked back, he’d never get on the plane. The first week had been okay, hard, but okay.
They’d emailed every day, long emails about his classes, her preparations for Cape Town, how much they missed each other. Day eight, her emails stopped. Day 10, her phone was disconnected. Day 14, Elon had called her parents, frantic. Her mother had answered, her voice cold as ice. Sienna has decided to move on with her life.
I suggest you do the same. What does that mean? Is she okay? Did something happen? Do not contact this number again. Click. Elon had tried everything. Called every friend they had in common, contacted the art residency. They said she’d never shown up. hired a private investigator with money he didn’t have. Found nothing. Sienna Marlo had vanished like she’d never existed.
For 2 years, Elon had searched while building Zip 2. Every success felt hollow. Every milestone felt empty. The person who’d believed in him first wasn’t there to see him prove her right. Eventually, he’d forced himself to move forward. started XCOM, sold it, started SpaceX and Tesla, became exactly who Sienna had said he’d become. But he’d kept the painting.
The man who touched stars. It hung in every office, every home. A reminder of the girl who’d seen him before anyone else did. Now 25 years later, she was back. The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom. Mr. Musk, we’ll be landing in Johannesburg in 30 minutes. Elon pressed his forehead against the window.
Somewhere below in Ptoria, Sienna was waiting with a truth that had been hidden for a quarter century. “What happened to you?” he whispered to the darkness. “Why did you leave? And why are you telling me now?” The plane began its descent, carrying him back to the place where everything had begun and where somehow everything was about to change. The hotel room in Ptoria felt wrong.
Too clean, too modern, too different from the cramped apartment Elon and Sienna had shared all those years ago. Elon stood at the window, looking out at a city that had transformed in his absence. New buildings reached toward the sky. Roads had been repaved. Everything looked shinier, newer, more prosperous. But Riverside Park was still there. He could see it in the distance, a patch of green surrounded by urban development.
The jackaranda trees would still be standing, probably bigger now, their roots deeper. It was Friday evening, 20 hours until he’d see Sienna again. 20 hours to remember everything he’d spent 25 years trying to forget. He pulled out his laptop, knowing sleep was impossible, and did something he hadn’t allowed himself to do in decades.
He searched for her name, Sienna Marlo. The results were disappointing. A few mentions in local art newsletters from the early 2000s, a group exhibition in Cape Town in 2003, then nothing. No social media presence, no recent exhibitions, no interviews or articles. It was as if she disappeared from the art world the same way she disappeared from his life.
Elon closed the laptop and lay back on the bed, letting the memories take him completely. September 1999, Stanford University. The campus had been overwhelming, massive, important, filled with brilliant people who all seemed to know exactly what they were doing. Elon had felt small and foreign and out of place, but he’d had Sienna. Their emails were his lifeline.
Day one, Elon, how’s America? How’s Stanford? Are the other students as brilliant as everyone says? Are you sleeping? Eating? Don’t forget to do both of those things. Cape Town is beautiful. My residency starts in 3 weeks. I’m terrified and excited in equal measure. Saw a street artist today who painted with his feet. Made me think of you.
Finding impossible solutions to problems nobody else sees. Miss you desperately already. Love s. He’d written back immediately telling her about his tiny dorm room, his overwhelming classes, how he’d accidentally insulted a professor by correcting an equation on the board. Day two, Esber, I corrected another professor today.
I need to stop doing that. Everyone here is smart, but they think inside such narrow boxes. Nobody wants to talk about actually changing anything, just improving what already exists by 2%. I keep thinking about our bench, our park, our late night conversations about remaking the world. Nobody here talks like that. 3 weeks feels like forever. Then you’ll be settled in Cape Town and we can figure out visiting schedules. I love you.
That hasn’t changed just because there’s an ocean between us. The emails continued daily at first, sometimes twice daily. Elon would rush back from classes to check his inbox, desperate for her words. Sienna’s emails were lifelines reminding him why he was here, what he was working toward, who he was beneath the awkwardness and intensity.
Day four. It packed three more boxes today. My little apartment looks so empty now. Saw our coffee shop. The one where I destroyed your homework. The yellow chair is still there. Sat in it and remembered everything. 2 weeks until I leave. 2 weeks until we’re both in our new lives. Promise me something.
Promise me that no matter how successful you become, you’ll remember this feeling. Being young and broke and brave enough to chase impossible things. Don’t let success make you forget what it felt like to be hungry for more. Love always est. How could I forget? You’re the one who taught me it was okay to dream big. Met with an adviser today.
told him I was thinking about leaving the PhD program to start a company. He looked at me like I was insane. Said I’d be throwing away an incredible opportunity. But what’s the point of a PhD if what I really want is to build things? I don’t want to write papers nobody reads. I want to make electric cars. I want to make humanity multilanetary.
Am I crazy? Eday 8. Elon had checked his email 15 times that morning. Nothing from Sienna. That was unusual but not alarming. She was probably busy with preparations for Cape Town. Day nine, still nothing. Elon sent another email, keeping his tone light. So, haven’t heard from you? Everything okay? Getting nervous about the move. I actually did it.
Told my adviser I’m leaving the program. Starting a company with my brother. Internet directory services. Not as exciting as rockets, but it’s a start. a way to make enough money to eventually build the things that matter. Wish you were here to tell me I’m not completely insane. Eday 10. Elon had called her number.
The recording said it had been disconnected. His heart had started racing. He’d immediately tried again. Same result. He’d sent three emails. No responses. Day 11. Sienna, I’m getting worried. Your phone is disconnected. You haven’t responded to emails. Did something happen? Are you okay? Please just send me one word. Anything. Let me know you’re all right. Eiday 12.
Sienna, please. I’m really scared now. What’s going on? Day 13. If you want to end things, just tell me. Don’t disappear. I deserve at least that much. Day 14. Elon had broken down and called her parents’ house. He’d never liked her parents. They’d always looked at him like he was a waste of their daughter’s time. a poor student with ridiculous dreams.
Her mother had answered on the third ring. Hello, Mrs. Marlo. It’s Elon Musk. I’m trying to reach Sienna. Her phone is disconnected and she hasn’t responded to my emails. Is she okay? There had been a long pause. Then her mother’s voice colder than he’d ever heard it. Sienna has decided to move on with her life. Mr. Musk, I suggest you do the same.
What does that mean? Is she hurt? Is she sick? Did something happen? She’s made her choice. She’s not interested in long-d distanceance relationships with students who have no realistic prospects. She’s focusing on her future. The words had hit like physical blows. That’s not We had plans. We were going to make this work. She’s young.
She changed her mind. It happens. Don’t contact this number again. Can I at least talk to her? Can she tell me herself? Goodbye, Mr. Musk. The line went dead. Elon had stood in his dorm room, phone in hand, feeling his world crack apart. It didn’t make sense. Sienna wouldn’t just change her mind without talking to him. She wouldn’t disappear without explanation.
Unless her mother was right, unless Sienna had looked at their future at a broke entrepreneur with wild dreams versus her art career and decided he wasn’t worth it. He’d sent one final email. Aser, your mother said you changed your mind about us. If that’s true, I wish you told me yourself. I thought we were brave enough to be honest with each other about everything. I don’t believe her.
I don’t believe you just leave without a word. But I also can’t force you to talk to me. If you’re reading this and you want out, just tell me. I’ll understand. I’ll hurt, but I’ll understand. If you’re reading this and something else is happening, if you’re in trouble or you’re scared or your parents are forcing you to cut contact, please find a way to tell me. I’ll come back. I’ll leave Stanford. I’ll do whatever it takes. I love you.
That’s not going to change just because you’re not answering. No response came. Elon had tried to move forward. He’d thrown himself into building Zip 2 with his brother Kimble, worked 18-hour days, slept in the office, showered at the YMCA, ate like a machine fueling itself rather than a human being enjoying food. But he’d kept searching.
6 months in, he’d hired a private investigator with money he couldn’t afford to spend. The investigator found nothing. Sienna hadn’t enrolled in the Cape Town residency. She hadn’t enrolled anywhere. Her parents had moved to a different city. No forwarding address, no trail to follow. It was like she’d been erased.
One year in, Elon had forced himself to accept it. Whatever had happened, whether she’d chosen to leave or been forced to, she was gone. Searching was destroying him, distracting him from building the future they dreamed about together. 2 years in, Cip 2 was succeeding. Elon had money for the first time in his life.
He’d hired better investigators, searched harder, found nothing. Eventually, he’d stopped looking, not because he’d stopped caring, but because the pain of searching and finding nothing was worse than the pain of just accepting her absence. He’d started X.com, which became PayPal, sold it for a fortune, started SpaceX and Tesla, just like he’d promised Sienna he would.
Became exactly who she’d said he’d become, the man who touched stars. but she wasn’t there to see it. Sometimes late at night after successful launches or product reveals, Elon would find himself thinking about her, wondering where she was, if she was happy, if she ever thought about him, if she knew that he’d kept his promises. He dated other people, married, divorced, married again, divorced again, had children, built companies, changed industries, made billions.
But there had always been a sienna-shaped hole in his chest that nothing else could fill. She’d been the first person to believe in him, the first person to see him completely, the first person to love not what he might become, but who he actually was. And she disappeared without explanation. Now lying in a Ptoria hotel room, Elon checked his watch.
19 hours until he’d finally get answers. 19 hours until he’d learn why she left. 19 hours until he discovered what truth she’d been hiding for 25 years. His phone buzzed. A text from Kimell, his brother. You okay? Margaret said, “You cleared your entire schedule. That’s not like you.” Elon typed back. “Going to see an old friend. Need to handle something from the past.
Must be important. You never take time off.” “It is. I’ll explain later.” He set the phone down and walked back to the window. Somewhere out there in this city he’d left behind decades ago, Sienna was preparing to tell him something that would change everything. Elon thought about her mother’s words from that terrible phone call. She’s made her choice.
But had she or had someone made the choice for her? Tomorrow he’d finally know. He pulled out his wallet and extracted a worn, faded photograph he’d carried for 25 years. Sienna on the stone wall, laughing, paint stained and perfect. young Elon beside her, his arm around her shoulders, looking at her like she was his entire world. “What happened to you?” he whispered to the photograph.
“What are you going to tell me tomorrow that you couldn’t tell me then?” Outside, the sun began to set over Ptoria, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, the same color Sienna used to mix on her palette, trying to capture the exact shade of possibility. In less than 24 hours, everything would change. Elon just didn’t know how much.
Saturday morning arrived with brilliant sunshine that hurt Elon’s eyes. He’d barely slept, watching the ceiling and running through a thousand different scenarios of what Sienna might tell him. By noon, he couldn’t stay in the hotel anymore.
He showered, dressed in jeans and a simple black t-shirt, not the careful uniform of a CEO, but clothes that reminded him of who he’d been at 19. Then he headed out. Even though he was 2 hours early, the drive to Riverside Park felt like traveling through time. Some streets looked exactly the same, others were completely transformed.
He passed the university campus, saw students walking with backpacks and coffee cups, laughing with friends. Had he and Sienna ever looked that carefree? The coffee shop where they’d met was gone. A bank stood in its place now, all glass and steel and impersonal efficiency. Elon felt an unexpected pang of loss. That yellow chair Sienna had loved was probably in a landfill somewhere, having no idea it had once held someone important.
He parked three blocks from Riverside Park and walked the rest of the way. His heart was hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape. His palms were sweating. Elon Musk, who’d stood before Congress and hostile investors and critical press conferences without flinching, felt like he might throw up. The park entrance looked smaller than he remembered.
The iron gates were the same, but they’d been repainted. A new sign welcomed visitors in three languages. Elon walked through and stopped, overwhelmed by memory. The jackaranda trees were still there, bigger now, their trunks thick and gnarled with age, their branches spreading like purple umbrellas across the sky.
Blossoms carpeted the ground, creating a lavender pathway that looked almost magical. Couples walked hand in hand. Families spread blankets for picnics. Children chased each other laughing. Normal people living normal lives. Having no idea that Elon’s entire world was about to shift on its axis. He found the bench. Their bench. It had been replaced at some point. The wood looked newer, but it sat in exactly the same spot under the largest jackaranda tree.
Someone had carved initials into the back rest. Not his in Sienna’s, but someone else’s declaration of love. The sight made Elon’s chest ache. He sat down and checked his phone. 1:30, 30 minutes early. The weight was excruciating. He watched people pass, tried to breathe normally, failed. His mind kept racing through possibilities. Maybe she’d gotten married immediately and wanted to apologize for leaving.
Maybe she’d become famous and he’d somehow missed it. Maybe she’d been sick back then and hadn’t wanted him to sacrifice his future to take care of her. Maybe she’d simply stopped loving him and finally felt guilty enough to explain why. Each possibility felt worse than the last. At 150, Elon’s phone buzzed, his assistant Margaret checking if he was okay. He ignored it.
At 155, he stood up, unable to sit still anymore, paced three steps in each direction, sat back down, stood up again. At 159, he saw her. She walked through the park entrance, and Elon’s breath caught in his throat. 25 years had changed her. Of course, they had, but somehow she was still unmistakably Sienna.
Her wild curly hair was still untamed, but silver, now threaded through the dark brown like expensive jewelry. She wore a simple blue dress that moved with the breeze. Her hands, he could see even from a distance, were still paintstained. Some things never changed, but her face showed the passage of time. Lines around her eyes and mouth, a thinness to her cheeks that spoke of hardship or illness, or simply life being harder than expected. She was beautiful.
Still beautiful, but beautiful in the way of someone who’d survived things rather than someone who’d avoided them. Their eyes met across the park. Sienna stopped walking. Her hand went to her mouth. Even from 50 ft away, Elon could see her trembling. He wanted to run to her, wanted to stand frozen, wanted to turn around and leave before whatever she was about to say could hurt him.
Instead, he did nothing, rooted to the spot like the jackaranda trees around them. Sienna took a deep breath and started walking again slowly, each step looking like it required courage. She reached the bench and stopped 3 ft away, close enough to touch, too far away for comfort. Hello, Elon,” she said softly. Her voice, God, her voice.
He’d forgotten the exact melody of it. But hearing it now brought back everything, every conversation, every laugh, every whispered, “I love you,” in their tiny apartment. “Si,” his own voice sounded strange, tight, like speaking through broken glass. They stood staring at each other, 25 years of questions hanging in the air between them. You came, she said finally.
Of course I came. You said it was important. I wasn’t sure you would. You’re so busy now saving the world and building the future. A small sad smile crossed her face. You did it. Everything you said you’d do. Not everything. The words came out harder than he’d intended. I said I’d find you. I failed at that. Sienna flinched. That wasn’t your failure. That was my choice.
Why? 25 years of pain compressed into one word. Why did you disappear? Why did you cut me out of your life without explanation? Can we sit? She gestured to the bench. Elon nodded, not trusting his voice. They sat down, carefully, leaving space between them. Not touching, not even close.
Two people who’d once shared everything now separated by an ocean of lost time. Sienna looked down at her hands, twisting them together. Up close, Elon could see the paint stains were fresh. She was still creating, still making art. Somehow that made everything hurt more. I saw you, you know, she said quietly at the PayPal IPO, at the first Space X launch, at Tesla events.
I stood in the back, watched you, wanted to run to you so many times. Elon felt like he’d been punched. You were there at all of it. Every major event, every success, I was always there, Elon, in the background, watching the boy I love become the man I always knew he’d be. Tears started sliding down her cheeks. You have no idea how proud I was, how proud I am. Then why? His voice broke.
If you were there, if you cared, why didn’t you say something? Anything? Do you have any idea what it did to me when you vanished? I know. God, I know. And I’m so sorry. She finally looked at him and the pain in her eyes was so raw that Elon almost looked away. I didn’t want to leave. I had no choice.
Everyone has choices. Not when you’re 20 years old and terrified and alone. Sienna took a shaking breath. One week after you left for Stanford, I found out I was pregnant. The world stopped. Everything stopped. The children playing, the breeze in the trees, the sound of traffic in the distance, Elon’s heartbeat, his breathing, time itself.
He stared at Sienna, certain he’d misheard, certain this was impossible. What? The word came out as barely a whisper. I was pregnant, Elon, with your baby. Our baby. His mind refused to process the information. pregnant 25 years ago, which meant I have a child? His voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. We have a child, a daughter.
Sienna’s tears were flowing freely now. Her name is Luna. She’s 24 years old. She has your eyes and your brilliant mind and your terrible habit of correcting people when they’re wrong about science. Elon couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The bench beneath him felt unstable, like the whole world was tilting.
A daughter,” he repeated numbly. “For 24 years, I’ve had a daughter, and you never told me. I wanted to tell you. Every single day, I wanted to tell you.” Sienna’s voice was breaking. “But you just started at Stanford. You had your whole future ahead of you.
If id told you I was pregnant, what would you have done?” “I would have come back,” Elon said immediately. “I would have left Stanford. I would have taken care of you and the baby.” “Exactly,” Sienna turned to face him fully. You would have given up everything. Your dreams, your education, your future. You would have come back here, gotten some job you hated, and spent the rest of your life resenting me for trapping you.
I wouldn’t have. Yes, you would have. Maybe not at first. Maybe not for years, but eventually. She wiped out her tears with paint stained fingers. You were meant to change the world, Elon. You talked about making humanity multilanetary, about sustainable energy, about saving civilization itself.
How could I tell you about a baby and destroy all of that? It wasn’t your decision to make. Elon stood up, needing to move, to do something with the rage and grief and confusion flooding through him. She’s my daughter, and you took that from me. You took 24 years away from me. I know, and I’ve regretted it every single day. Sienna stood too, facing him.
But I did what I thought was right. I thought the world needed you more than Luna and I did. That’s not Elon stopped, running his hands through his hair, trying to organize thoughts that felt like shattered glass. Where is she? Luna, where is she now? She wanted to come today. I told her to wait. I wanted to tell you first, give you time to process before I want to meet her.
The words tumbled out urgently. I need to meet her now today. Elon, maybe you should take some time to I’ve already lost 24 years. His voice was hard, determined. I’m not losing another minute. Sienna studied his face, then nodded slowly. She pulled out her phone, typed something, and waited. They stood in silence. Elon’s mind was racing. A daughter.
He had a daughter who was 24 years old. What did she look like? What did she sound like? Did she hate him for not being there? Did she know he hadn’t known about her? God, what must she think of him? 5 minutes passed. 10. Elon counted every second. Then he saw her. A young woman walked through the park entrance and Elon’s knees nearly gave out. She had Sienna’s curly hair, wild and free.
She had Sienna’s build, slender and graceful. But her eyes, her eyes were his. The exact shade, the exact shape. And the way she walked, purposeful and intense, reminded him of himself. She was beautiful, a perfect blend of him and Sienna, a living proof that they’d once been together, once been in love, once created something extraordinary.
Luna walked toward them, her own eyes wide with emotion. She stopped a few feet away, looking at Elon like he might vanish if she blinked. “Hi,” she said softly. It was the most inadequate greeting possible and somehow the only right thing to say. “Hi,” Elon managed. They stared at each other.
Father and daughter meeting for the first time when they should have known each other for 24 years. Luna’s eyes filled with tears. “You really didn’t know about me, did you?” “No, I swear. I had no idea. I believe you. Mom told me, but I needed to see your face when you found out.” A tear slipped down her cheek. You look exactly like your pictures, like the videos, but different, too. More real.
Elon felt his own eyes burning. You look like your mother, but you have my eyes. Everyone says that. Luna smiled through her tears. I’m a quantum physics PhD student. I know way too much about rocket propulsion for someone who’s never worked in aerospace. And I can’t let incorrect science go uncorrected, which makes me very annoying at parties.
Despite everything, Elon almost laughed. That’s genetic, apparently. They fell into silence again, neither knowing what to say, both with 24 years of words stuck in their throats. Finally, Luna spoke. “Can I? Would it be okay if I hugged you? Is that weird? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I’ve imagined meeting you my whole life.
And Elon stepped forward and pulled her into his arms before she could finish the sentence. Luna hugged him back fiercely, and Elon felt her shoulders shake with sobs. He held his daughter, his daughter, and let his own tears fall into her curly hair that smelled like jasmine and felt like Sienna’s used to feel. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. It wasn’t your fault. Mom explained everything. You didn’t know. I should have found you. Should have looked harder. Mom hit us pretty well. Luna pulled back, wiping her eyes. She didn’t want to be found. She thought she was doing the right thing. Elon looked over Luna’s shoulder at Sienna, who stood watching them with tears streaming down her face. “Why now?” he asked.
“After 25 years, why tell me today?” Luna and Sienna exchanged a look that made Elon’s stomach drop. “Dad,” Luna started, then stopped. “Can I call you that? Is that okay?” “Yes, please.” The word dad coming from her lips broke something loose in his chest. “Dad, there’s something else you need to know. The reason mom finally contacted you.” Luna took a deep breath, her hand finding her mother’s. “Mom is sick. Really sick.
” The world tilted again. What kind of sick? Elon’s voice sounded distant to his own ears. Sienna spoke, her voice steady despite the tears. Stage 4 pancreatic cancer. Diagnosed 4 months ago. Elon felt the ground disappear beneath his feet. Elon’s legs gave out. He sat down hard on the bench, his hands gripping the edge until his knuckles turned white. Stage four, he repeated, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
How long? Sienna sat beside him, leaving space, but not as much as before. The doctor said 6 to 8 months, maybe less. It’s aggressive. 4 months ago, Elon’s mind was calculating despite the shock. You’ve known for 4 months, and you waited until now to tell me. I needed time to prepare, Luna, to prepare myself, to figure out what to say. Sienna’s voice was quiet, but steady.
How do you call someone after 25 years and say, “Hello, you have a daughter, and by the way, I’m dying.” Luna sat on Elon’s other side, sandwiching him between the two most important people he hadn’t known existed an hour ago. I wanted mom to tell you sooner. We fought about it. “You fought?” Elon looked at his daughter.
His daughter, the words still felt impossible, and saw the tension in her jaw. I was angry. I am angry. Luna’s hands twisted together in her lap. Not at you. At the situation, at Mom for waiting so long, at the universe for terrible timing. She turned to face him. I’ve known about you my whole life. Mom kept newspaper clippings. Showed me videos of your launches.
Told me stories about the man you were before you became famous. She told you about me? Elon looked at Sienna confused. Every story I could remember. Sienna smiled sadly. How we met, our dreams, your terrible jokes, the time you tried to cook dinner and set off the fire alarm, everything. I didn’t want Luna to have a ghost for a father. I wanted her to know you, even if you couldn’t know her.
But you never gave me the chance to actually be her father. The anger was rising in Elon’s chest, mixing with the grief and shock and overwhelming fear. You made that choice for all of us. I know, Sienna’s voice cracked. And I’ve spent 24 years wondering if I made the right decision. Did you? Elon demanded. Do you think you made the right choice? Sienna was quiet for a long moment, staring at her paint stained hands.
I don’t know. If I’d told you, you might have come back. You might have given up Stanford, given up your dreams. Would you have built SpaceX? Would Tesla exist? Would thousands of people have jobs that didn’t exist before? Would humanity be closer to becoming multilanetary? That’s not fair, Elon said quietly.
You don’t get to justify taking my daughter from me by pointing at rockets and electric cars. I’m not justifying it. I’m explaining it. Sienna turned to face him, her eyes red and exhausted. When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified. 20 years old, alone, no money, no support. My parents were furious. They wanted me to. She stopped glancing at Luna.
They wanted her to get rid of me. Luna finished quietly. Mom told me. They said a baby would ruin her life. Elon felt sick. What did you tell them? That I was keeping you. Sienna looked at Luna with fierce love. No matter what, you were mine and Elon’s. And I was keeping you. So they kicked you out, Elon said, the pieces falling into place. Yes, I had 2 weeks to find somewhere to live.
I was supposed to leave for Cape Town, but I couldn’t go to the residency pregnant. I couldn’t tell you because Sienna’s voice broke. Because I knew what you’d do. I would have taken care of you, both of you. Exactly. You would have abandoned everything. Stanford, your future, your dreams.
You would have come back here, gotten some job you hated, and raised a baby at 20 years old. Sienna wiped her eyes. And maybe you would have been happy for a while, but eventually you would have looked around at your small life and wondered what you could have been. You don’t know that, don’t I? Sienna’s voice was gentle but firm. Elon, I knew you better than anyone.
I knew how big your dreams were, how desperately you needed to prove you could change the world. If I’d told you about Luna, you would have chosen us out of duty, out of responsibility, and that would have killed something essential in you. Luna spoke up. Mom worked three jobs while she was pregnant with me. Lived in a tiny room. Saved every cent.
After I was born, she kept working. We never had much, but we had enough. You shouldn’t have had to struggle, Elon said, looking at Sienna. I had money eventually. Millions. Billions. You and Luna could have had everything. We didn’t need everything. We needed each other. Sienna’s hand moved like she wanted to touch him. then stopped.
And I needed to know that you were out there becoming who you were meant to be. Every time I saw a SpaceX launch, every time a Tesla drove past, I felt like I’d made the right choice. Even though you were alone, even though Luna grew up without a father, I wasn’t alone. I had Luna. Sienna looked at their daughter and she had me. It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours. Elon turned to Luna.
Did you hate me growing up? Did you hate me for not being there? Luna considered the question carefully. Sometimes when other kids had dads at school events and I didn’t, when I had questions about science that mom couldn’t answer. When I graduated high school and you weren’t there. She paused. But mom always reminded me that you didn’t know.
That if you’d known, everything would have been different. It would have been, Elon said fiercely. I would have moved heaven and earth to be there for you. I believe you. Luna’s eyes, his eyes, filled with tears again. But then I wouldn’t have the mom I have. We wouldn’t have had our life difficult as it was. And maybe the world wouldn’t have SpaceX or Tesla or any of the things you’ve built.
I don’t care about SpaceX or Tesla, Elon said, surprising himself with the truth of it. Not compared to this. Not compared to 24 years of your life that I missed. But millions of people care, Sienna said softly. The people who have jobs because of your companies. The people who drive electric cars. The scientists who dream about Mars because you made it possible. Your work matters, Elon. It always did.
So does being a father. Elon shot back. I know. And I robbed you of that. I robbed Luna of having you in her life. Sienna’s voice was thick with regret. If I could go back and change it, I don’t know if I would because changing it means changing everything for all of us and for everyone your work has touched. They sat in silence.
Three people bound together by blood and choices in 25 years of absence. Finally, Elon spoke. You said 6 to 8 months. Yes. What’s the treatment plan? Have you tried immunotherapy? What about clinical trials? There are experimental treatments. Elon. Sienna put her hand on his arm and the touch sent electricity through him. I’ve explored everything.
The cancer is too advanced, too aggressive. Treatment would buy me weeks, maybe a month or two, but the quality of life would be. She shook her head. I’d rather spend the time I have left actually living. So, you’re just giving up? The words came out harsher than Elon intended. I’m accepting reality. There’s a difference. I don’t accept it. Elon stood up, pacing.
There has to be something. Better doctors, better hospitals, experimental procedures. I’ve seen the best doctors in South Africa. Sienna interrupted gently. Then come to America. I’ll get you into the best cancer centers in the world. John’s Hopkins, MD Anderson, Mayo Clinic. Elon, stop. Sienna’s voice was firm.
This isn’t a rocket that needs fixing. This isn’t a production problem you can engineer your way out of. This is my body shutting down and all the money and brilliant minds in the world can’t stop it. I can’t just accept that. I won’t. Luna stood and walked to Elon, putting her hand on his arm. The gesture was so natural, so daughter-like that it made his chest ache.
Dad, I’ve been fighting this same fight for 4 months, trying to find solutions, researching treatments, refusing to believe it. But mom’s right. We can’t fix this. Then what am I supposed to do? Elon’s voice cracked. I just found you, both of you. I can’t lose you already. You’re not losing me, Luna said. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.
But your mother is dying. Yes. Luna’s voice was steady despite her tears. And it’s horrible and unfair and I hate it. But we can’t change it. We can only decide how we spend the time we have. Elon looked at Sienna. Really looked at her. He could see it now. The thinness that wasn’t just age. The way she held herself carefully like movement hurt.
The exhaustion that went deeper than a sleepless night. How much pain are you in? He asked quietly. manageable for now. The medication helps. For now, the words were heavy with implication. Yes. Elon sat back down, feeling defeated in a way he’d never felt before. He’d faced impossible challenges, building electric cars when everyone said it couldn’t be done.
Starting a rocket company with no aerospace experience, nearly going bankrupt multiple times. But he’d always found solutions, always fought through. This was different. This was a problem that money and intelligence and sheer determination couldn’t solve. Why are you telling me now? He asked. The real reason.
Sienna and Luna exchanged another look, having one of those silent conversations that people who know each other deeply can have. Because Luna asked me to, Sienna finally said, “Every day since my diagnosis, she asked me to contact you to give you the chance to know her before I’m gone. I was afraid, Luna added quietly, that mom would die and you’d never know I existed.
That I’d spend the rest of my life knowing my father was out there famous and brilliant in changing the world. But he didn’t know he had a daughter. The thought made Elon feel physically ill. I would have wanted to know. I deserve to know. I know that now, Sienna said. I think I always knew it, but I was afraid.
Afraid of what? That you’d reject us? That you’d be angry? That you’d accuse me of trying to trap you or get money from you? That meeting Luna would be a disappointment? Sienna’s voice was barely a whisper. I was afraid that the boy who loved me wouldn’t exist anymore. That the man you’d become would look at me and see a stranger trying to complicate his life.
I would never. I know. I can see that now. But fear isn’t rational, Elon. You know that he did know that he’d spent his life fighting through fear. Fear of failure, fear of ridicule, fear of his companies going bankrupt. But this was different.
This was the fear of someone who’d made an impossible choice and spent 25 years living with the consequences. I’m not angry, Elon said, and was surprised to find it was partially true. He was hurt, confused, overwhelmed. But the anger was fading, replaced by something more complex. I’m devastated that I miss so much. But I’m not angry. Not at you. Sienna’s shoulders sagged with relief. Thank you. But I need you to promise me something.
Elon looked between Sienna and Luna. Whatever time you have left, 6 months, 8 months, however long, I want to be part of it. I want to know Luna. I want to hear every story I missed. I want to be her father. Even if it’s 24 years too late. It’s not too late, Luna said quickly. If you want to try, I want to try. I do want to try.
Elon turned to her. I want to know everything about you. Your favorite foods, your research, your dreams, your fears, everything. That might take a while, Luna said with a small smile. Then we better start now. Sienna stood slowly and Elon noticed how carefully she moved. There’s one more thing you should know.
What? I was at your PayPal event at the first SpaceX launch. I told you that. Sienna’s voice was shaking. But I didn’t tell you why. Why? Elon stood to face her. Because every success you had, every rocket that launched, every impossible thing you achieved, I was there because I needed to see it. I needed to know that my choice, however painful, had led to something extraordinary.
Tears were streaming down Sienna’s face now. But the truth is, I wasn’t just there to watch. I was there because I couldn’t stay away because I loved you then. And I, she stopped looking away. You what? Elon’s heart was pounding. I never stopped, Sienna whispered. I never stopped loving you, Elon.
Even when I should have moved on, even when it would have been easier, the love just changed form from wanting to be with you to wanting you to become everything you were capable of being. Elon felt like he couldn’t breathe. 25 years. 25 years of thinking she’d abandoned him, of thinking she hadn’t cared. And all along she’d been there, watching, loving him from a distance, making the sacrifice she thought the world needed.
He stepped forward and did something he hadn’t done in decades in public. He pulled Sienna into his arms and cried. She cried too, her thin frames shaking against him, her paint stained hands gripping his shirt like he might disappear. Luna wrapped her arms around both of them, and they stood there under the jackaranda trees, a family that should have been finally together, even as time was running out.
“I’m not losing you again,” Elon whispered into Sienna’s hair. However long you have, I’m not wasting another second. Sienna pulled back enough to look at his face. What about your companies, your schedule, your responsibilities? They can wait. The world can wait. Elon looked at Luna, then back at Sienna. I’ve spent 25 years building the future. It’s time I focused on the present.
Above them, Jackaranda blossoms fell like purple rain. And for the first time in 25 years, Elon Musk felt like he’d finally come home. The three of them sat on the bench until the afternoon sun began to sink toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold.
They talked, really talked, for the first time as a family that should have existed for 24 years. Luna told stories about growing up. How she’d taught herself to code at age 8 using library computers. How she’d won a national science fair at 12 with a project on sustainable energy that made Sienna cry because it was so much like something young Elon would have done.
How she’d gotten a full scholarship to university because her test scores were off the charts. Mom always said I had your brain, Luna explained, smiling at Elon. Every time I understood something complex easily, she’d say, “That’s the Musk in you.” Elon listened, his heart breaking with every milestone he’d missed. “First steps, first words, first day of school, graduations, awards, everything. What’s your PhD research on?” he asked.
Luna’s face lit up. “Quantum entanglement and its applications for long-distance communication. specifically how we might use it for space exploration to solve the communication delay problem. Elon stared at her. You’re working on quantum communication for space travel.
Yes, I know it’s similar to what some of your teams are exploring. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t mean to. Okay, Luna, that’s incredible. Elon felt pride swelling in his chest mixed with deep sadness. I would have loved to discuss this with you to see your work. You can, Luna said quickly. I have my research notebooks, papers I’ve published. I’d love to show you everything if you want.
I want I absolutely want. Sienna watched them, a soft smile on her tired face. You two are so alike. Both of you get the same intense look when you talk about science like nothing else in the world exists. Where do you live? Elon asked. Are you still here in Ptoria? Cape Town, actually, Luna said.
I’m at the university there, but I’ve taken a leave of absence to be with mom. The reminder of why they were all here, why Sienna had finally reached out, hung heavy in the air. “Where are you staying?” Elon asked Sienna. “I have a small apartment near the park. Same neighborhood where we used to live, actually. Different building, but close.” “Is it comfortable? Do you have everything you need?” Sienna hesitated. “It’s fine.
That’s not what I asked, she sighed. It’s small. The stairs are difficult now. The bathroom doesn’t have proper support bars, but it’s home. Elon’s mind was already working. That’s not acceptable. You need somewhere accessible, comfortable, with proper medical equipment if you need it. Elon, I can’t afford. I’m not asking what you can afford. I’m telling you, I’m going to fix this. He pulled out his phone.
Margaret, I need you to find a house in Ptoria near Riverside Park. Singlestory, wheelchair accessible, good medical facilities nearby, furnished. I need it ready by tomorrow. Sir, his assistant’s confusion was evident even through the phone. Just do it. Price is not a concern. And send Dr. Chen from my medical team. I need him here by tonight.
Elon, that’s not necessary, Sienna protested. He ended the call and looked at her. Yes, it is. You’re not spending your last months struggling upstairs and being uncomfortable, and you’re going to have the best medical care available. I told you I’m not doing aggressive treatment.
I heard you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have proper pain management, good nursing care, and doctors who know what they’re doing. His voice softened. Let me do this. Please, let me take care of you the way I should have been able to 25 years ago. Sienna’s eyes filled with tears again. You don’t owe me anything. That’s not true. I owe you everything. You gave me my daughter.
You sacrificed your own happiness so I could chase my dreams. The least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable. Luna took her mother’s hand. Mom, let him help. Please. You’ve been so stubborn about accepting help from anyone. I don’t want charity, Sienna said quietly. It’s not charity, Elon insisted. It’s family taking care of family.
The word family seemed to break something in Sienna. She nodded, wiping her eyes. Okay, thank you. Don’t thank me. Elon’s phone was already buzzing with messages from Margaret. What else do you need? Medical equipment? A nurse? What medications are you on? For the next hour, they discussed practical matters.
Sienna’s medication schedule, her doctor’s contact information, her mobility limitations, her dietary restrictions. Luna filled in details that Sienna tried to minimize, making it clear that her mother was sicker than she wanted to admit. She won’t eat unless I force her, Luna said. She’s lost 15 lbs in 2 months. “I’m not hungry most of the time,” Sienna protested. We’ll get a nutritionist, Elon said, typing notes into his phone.
Someone who can make food appealing even when you’re not hungry. Elon, this is too much. It’s not enough. It will never be enough to make up for lost time. But it’s what I can do now. As the sun continued to set, Luna’s phone rang. She glanced at it inside. I need to take this. It’s my research adviser. I’ll be right back.
She walked a short distance away, leaving Elon and Sienna alone for the first time since the park 25 years ago. They sat in silence for a moment, watching purple blossoms drift down from the trees. “She’s extraordinary,” Elon said finally. “Luna, she’s absolutely extraordinary.” “She is,” Sienna agreed. “She got your brilliance, but also your kindness. The kindness you had before the world made you harder. I’m not sure I’m kind anymore. you are.
You just hide it better. Sienna turned to look at him. Thank you for not hating me. I could never hate you. Elon met her eyes. I’m hurt. I’m angry about the lost time, but hate you? Impossible. I robbed you of being a father to her for 24 years. You did, Elon said honestly. And that’s something I’m going to have to process.
But you also raised her alone. Gave her everything you could. made sure she knew who I was even though I didn’t know she existed. He paused. That took strength and sacrifice and love. I loved her from the moment I knew she existed. Even when I was terrified and alone and my parents had kicked me out.
Sienna’s hand moved to her stomach unconsciously like she could still feel the pregnancy. She was ours. Elon part you. Part me. How could I not love her completely? I wish I’d been there. So do I. More than you know. Sienna looked down at her hands. There were so many times I almost called you. When she was born and she had your eyes.
When she said her first word, star of all things. When she got her first A in physics. When she got accepted to university. Every milestone I wanted to share it with you. Why didn’t you? Pride, fear, stubbornness. Sienna smiled sadly. By the time Luna was five, you were already becoming famous.
By the time she was 10, you were a billionaire. By the time she was 15, you were Elon Musk, the man trying to save humanity. How do you call someone like that and say, “Remember me? We have a daughter.” You just call, I would have answered. I always would have answered if I’d known it was you. Would you? By then, you were married, had other children, a whole life I wasn’t part of. Elon was quiet. She was right.
He’d built a life without her, moved on or tried to. The thought of her suddenly appearing with a teenage daughter would have been devastating in a different way. I don’t know, he admitted. I’d like to think I would have welcomed it, but you’re right. The timing would have been complicated.
Everything about this is complicated, Sienna said. There’s no good time to tell someone they have a child they didn’t know about. Too early and you destroy their future. Too late and you’ve stolen their chance to be a parent. And now now is too late and just in time all at once. Sienna looked at him with such sadness that Elon’s chest achd.
You get to know Luna, she gets to know you, but I don’t get to see what kind of relationship you build. I don’t get to watch you be her father. The reality of it hit Elon again. Sienna was dying. In 6 months, maybe less, she’d be gone. Luna would lose her mother. He would lose Sienna again, this time permanently. “How are you so calm about it?” he asked. “About dying?” “I’m not calm. I’m terrified.
” Sienna’s voice shook. “I’m terrified of the pain getting worse. I’m terrified of losing myself before I actually die. I’m terrified of leaving Luna alone in the world.” She took a shaky breath. But I’m also tired, Elon. I’ve been fighting so hard for so long. Fighting poverty. Fighting to give Luna a good life. Fighting to make my art matter. I’m tired of fighting.
You don’t have to fight alone anymore, don’t I? You have companies to run, a whole life in America. You can’t just stay here. Watch me. Elon’s voice was firm. I’m moving my base of operations to South Africa for the next 6 months. My team can handle things remotely. Anything that absolutely needs me in person, I’ll fly there and back. Elon, that’s insane. You can’t run multiple billion-dollar companies from Ptoria. I can and I will.
It’s 2024. I have video conferencing, email, phones, and more importantly, I have 25 years to make up for. He looked at her intently. You gave me the gift of our daughter. The least I can do is be here for both of you now. Your board will think you’ve lost your mind. They probably already think that. Elon smiled slightly. I’ve done crazier things.
Started a rocket company with no experience. Bet everything on electric cars when everyone said they’d fail. This This is easy. This is just choosing what matters most. Sienna was crying again, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. I don’t deserve your kindness. Yes, you do. You deserve everything I can give you and more.
Elon reached out and took her hand, the first intentional touch between them. Her hand was thinner than he remembered. The bones more prominent, but it still fit in his like it had 25 years ago. I’m not losing you again, Sienna. Not without making the most of whatever time we have.
Even though I’m dying, even though it’s going to hurt when I’m gone, especially because of that. Elon squeezed her hand gently. 25 years ago, you disappeared and I never got to say goodbye. I never got closure. I never got to tell you how much you meant to me. I’m not making that mistake again. Luna returned, her eyes red like she’d been crying during her phone call.
She looked at her parents holding hands and smiled through her tears. “Sorry,” she said. “My adviser wanted an update on my research timeline. I told him I’m not coming back until, she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Until, Sienna finished gently. It’s okay to say it, Luna. Until I die. I hate that word, Luna said fiercely. I hate all of this. I know, baby. I do, too.
Elon stood and pulled Luna into a hug. She stiffened for just a second. They’d only met hours ago after all, then relaxed into it, letting herself be held by the father she’d never had. We’re going to make the most of the time we have,” Elon said quietly. “All three of us together. No more lost time. No more whatifs. Just us making whatever memories we can.
” Luna nodded against his shoulder. When she pulled back, Elon looked between the two most important women in his world. One he’d loved and lost. One he’d never known, but loved instantly. “I need you both to promise me something,” he said. “What?” they asked in unison.
Promise me you’ll tell me the truth about how Sienna’s feeling, about what you need, about everything. No more hiding things to protect me. We’re family. Family tells the truth, even when it’s hard. Sienna and Luna exchanged a look, then nodded. “We promise,” Sienna said. “Good.” Elon pulled out his phone as it buzzed. “Margaret found a house. It’s ready for us to see tonight. Let’s go look at it.” “Tonight?” Sienna looked exhausted.
If you’re too tired, we can wait until tomorrow. “No,” Sienna said, standing slowly. Luna immediately moved to support her. “Let’s go tonight. I want to see what kind of house Elon Musk thinks is appropriate.” They walked through the park together as the last light faded from the sky.
Elon noticed how carefully Sienna moved, how Luna stayed close to her side, ready to help if needed. This was his family. Broken and complicated and 25 years too late, but his family nonetheless, and he’d be damned if he’d waste another second of the time they had left. The house Margaret found was perfect in a way that made Sienna cry.
It sat on a quiet street blocks from Riverside Park, surrounded by jackaranda trees that would bloom purple every spring. Singlestory, as Elon had requested, with wide doorways and smooth floors. The living room had floor to ceiling windows that let in golden afternoon light. The master bedroom opened onto a private garden filled with flowers. But what made Sienna cry was the studio.
Margaret had somehow found a house with a separate art studio, a bright, airy room with north-facing windows, proper ventilation, and enough space for easels and canvases and all the creative chaos that art required.
“How did you know?” Sienna asked, standing in the doorway of the studio, tears streaming down her face. I didn’t, Elon admitted. Margaret must have researched you. Found out you were an artist. I told her, Luna said quietly. When she called asking about mom’s needs, I mentioned the painting. I thought, she trailed off, looking uncertain. You thought exactly right, Sienna said, pulling Luna into a hug. Thank you, baby.
They moved Sienna’s few belongings from her tiny apartment the next day. It didn’t take long. She’d lived simply, accumulating little over the years, but what she had was precious. Paintings Luna had made as a child, photographs of the two of them together, sketchbooks filled with drawings spanning 24 years, and a box of newspaper clippings about Elon. He found it while helping unpack, tucked in the back of a closet.
every major milestone of his career carefully cut out and preserved. The PayPal sale, the first SpaceX launch, the first Tesla delivery, awards, interviews, photographs of him at events. Sienna had kept all of it. “You really were there,” he said, holding an article about the Falcon 1’s fourth launch, the one that had finally succeeded after three failures.
“At all of it.” Sienna looked up from where she was organizing art supplies. “I told you I was. I stood in the back at the launch viewing. I was so proud when it succeeded and so relieved. I knew how much was riding on that launch. I wish I’d known you were there. I would have Elon stopped, not sure how to finish.
You would have what? Come find me, demanded explanations, been angry. No, I would have just wanted to see you to know you were okay. Luna appeared in the doorway. There’s someone here. Says he’s Dr. Dr. Chen, Elon’s medical consultant had arrived right on schedule. Dr. Chen was in his 50s, calm and confident, and he spent 2 hours with Sienna going over her medical history, current symptoms, and treatment options. Elon and Luna waited in the living room, both nervous.
“She won’t agree to aggressive treatment,” Luna said quietly. “I’ve tried. She says she wants quality of life over quantity.” I understand that,” Elon said, though he hated it. But there are things we can do to make her comfortable, to manage pain, to help her maintain strength and dignity. She’s lost so much weight. Sometimes she can barely get out of bed. That changes now.
We’ll get nutritionists, physical therapists, whatever she needs. When Dr. Chen emerged, his expression was carefully neutral. He gestured for Elon and Luna to follow him outside. out of Sienna’s earshot. “She’s very sick,” he said bluntly. “The cancer has metastasized extensively. Liver, lungs, lymph nodes.
Her local doctors gave an accurate prognosis. 6 to 8 months is optimistic.” Elon felt the words like physical blows. What can we do? Make her comfortable. Manage her pain. There are paliotative care protocols that can help significantly. She’s currently under medicated because she’s been trying to stay alert and functional. We can adjust that.
What about experimental treatments, clinical trials? Elon heard the desperation in his own voice. Mr. Musk, I understand you’re used to solving problems, but this isn’t a problem that can be solved, only managed. Dr. Chen’s voice was gentle but firm. The kindest thing you can do is accept her wishes and help her have the best possible quality of life for the time she has left.
Luna was crying silently. Elon put his arm around her shoulders. How long before she Luna couldn’t finish? It’s hard to say. She’s already quite weak. The cancer is aggressive. I’d say 4 to 6 months is more realistic than 6 to 8. Maybe less. 4 months. Maybe less. The words echoed in Elon’s head. “What will happen?” he asked. At the end, Dr.
Chen explained the progression. They could expect. “More pain, more weakness. Eventually, Sienna would need full-time care. She’d likely become bedridden. There would be good days and bad days, but the trajectory was clear. I’ve set up a care plan, Dr. Chen said. Nurses will come twice daily. I’ll visit weekly, more often as needed.
I’ve adjusted her medication regimen and I’ve left my number. Call anytime day or night if there are concerns. After Dr. Chen left, Elon and Luna sat in the garden, neither speaking. Finally, Borb Luna broke the silence. 4 months isn’t enough. It’s not enough time to make up for 24 years. No, Elon agreed. It’s not, but it’s what we have. I’m angry at her, Luna admitted.
Is that terrible? She’s dying and I’m angry that she waited so long to tell you that we only get this tiny amount of time together. It’s not terrible. It’s human. Elon looked at his daughter. Still so strange to think that word daughter. You’re allowed to feel everything you’re feeling. She meant well. She always meant well. But her choices took away my chance to have a normal family. I know.
And now she’s leaving me alone. Completely alone. Luna’s voice broke. I won’t have anyone. Yes, you will. Elon turned to face her fully. You’ll have me. I know I haven’t been there for 24 years. I know I’m essentially a stranger, but I’m your father, and I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to say that. I know you have other children, a whole life that doesn’t include me.
My life includes you now. It will always include you. Elon took her hand. After your mom is gone, you won’t be alone. I promise you that. Luna looked at him with desperate hope. Do you mean that? Absolutely. We’ll figure out what that looks like. I don’t want to overwhelm you or force anything, but you’re my daughter. That’s not going to change.
They sat together as the sun set, both processing the reality of what was coming. The next weeks fell into a rhythm. Elon moved into the house, taking one of the guest rooms. Luna took another. They became a strange makeshift family held together by love and impending loss.
Mornings Elon would work from the house, video conferencing with his teams around the world. His executives were confused by his sudden relocation, but they adapted. Rockets still launched. Cars still rolled off production lines. The companies continued without him being physically present every moment. Afternoons were for Sienna. She’d paint in her studio when she had the energy.
Elon and Luna would sit with her talking. She told them stories about Luna’s childhood. The funny moments, the hard moments, the proud moments. “Tell me about her first day of school,” Elon said one afternoon, sitting on the floor of the studio while Sienna worked on a canvas.
“She was so nervous,” Sienna said, smiling at the memory. “Held my hand so tight, I thought she’d break my fingers. But the moment we got to the classroom, she saw the science corner with magnets and forgot to be scared. I made a volcano erupt on day three, Luna added from where she was reading in the corner. The teacher was not impressed.
The teacher called me in, Sienna confirmed, said Luna was disruptive and too advanced for her peers. I said, “You’re welcome.” Elon laughed. I would have said the same thing. “I know. That’s exactly what I thought.” Sienna added a stroke of purple to her painting. You would have been so proud of her, Elon. Every achievement, every award, every time she did something brilliant and kind. I’d think Elon would love this.
I wish I’d been there. So do I. Sienna paused, her brush hovering over the canvas. I wish a lot of things had been different, but I can’t regret the choice completely because it led to you becoming who you are, and the world needed that. Did it need it more than Luna needed a father? Sienna was quiet for a long moment. I don’t know.
I told myself it did, but maybe I was just afraid. Afraid of you resenting me. Afraid of being the reason your potential went unrealized. Afraid you’d look at me and see an anchor instead of a partner. I would never have seen you that way. You don’t know that. 20-year-old you with a baby struggling to make ends meet, watching other people achieve their dreams while yours sat on hold.
You might have been kind about it, but the resentment would have grown. Elon wanted to argue, but he couldn’t be certain. He’d been so driven back then, so desperate to prove himself. Would he have been able to put those dreams aside to raise a child? Or would the sacrifice have poisoned everything? Evenings were for all three of them together.
They’d have dinner carefully prepared by the nutritionist to appeal to Sienna’s diminishing appetite. Then they’d sit in the living room talking. Elon told Luna stories about her mother when they were young. The coffee shop incident, their late night walks, the dreams they’d shared.
You talked about Mars even then? Luna asked, fascinated. Always. Your mother thought I was crazy. I thought you were ambitious. Sienna corrected. There’s a difference. You also said it was impossible. I said it was improbable. Again, different. Sienna smiled. And I was wrong. You’ve made it probable. Luna showed them her research, explaining quantum entanglement with the same intense focus Elon recognized from himself.
Sienna watched, pride and sadness mixing on her face. You understand maybe 10% of what she’s saying, don’t you? Elon asked Sienna. Maybe 5%. But I don’t need to understand the science to see the brilliance. Sienna looked at Luna with such love that Elon’s chest achd. She’s the best of both of us. Some days were hard. Days when Sienna’s pain broke through the medication.
Days when she was too weak to get out of bed. Days when the reality of what was coming crushed all of them. On those days, Elon would sit beside her bed and read to her articles about SpaceX launches, updates on Tesla production, news about sustainable energy, the things he was doing to make the world she’d believed in possible.
“You’re doing it,” she’d whisper on the hard days. Everything we talked about. “You’re actually doing it. We’re doing it. Your belief made it possible. Don’t give me too much credit. I’ll give you exactly the credit you deserve. You were the first person to believe in me.” That matters more than you know.
3 weeks in, Sienna finished a new painting. She called Elon and Luna to the studio to see it. The canvas showed three figures under a jackaranda tree. Their faces were turned toward a sky full of stars. You couldn’t see their features clearly, but you could feel the connection between them. Love and loss and hope all tangled together.
It’s us, Luna whispered. It is, Sienna confirmed. The family that time forgot. the family that found each other anyway. Elon stared at the painting, emotions overwhelming him. It’s beautiful. It’s the truth. Sienna looked tired but satisfied. This is my last major work.
I wanted it to be about us, about what we found, even when we thought everything was lost. Last major work? Elon felt panic rising. You’re not done painting. I’m getting weaker, Elon. You can see it. I can feel it. Sienna’s voice was gentle. I wanted to finish this before I couldn’t anymore. Luna was crying. Elon wanted to cry, too, but held it back, trying to be strong. “What do you want us to do with it?” he asked.
“After after I’m gone,” Sienna finished for him. “I want you to keep it, both of you. A reminder that love doesn’t always look like what we expect. Sometimes it looks like letting go. Sometimes it looks like finding each other again. Sometimes it looks like three people under a tree looking at stars.
That night after Sienna had gone to bed and Luna was in her room, Elon sat alone in the living room. He pulled out his phone and looked at his emails. Hundreds of them, decisions waiting, problems needing solutions. A whole empire that needed his attention. He answered the most urgent ones. Delegated the rest, and turned off his phone. Tomorrow he’d spend more time with Sienna and Luna.
He’d hear more stories, make more memories, build something that looked like a family, even though time was racing away from them. The companies could wait, the world could wait. The future he’d been building for decades, could wait. Right now, in this moment, the only thing that mattered was the present. 4 months, maybe less.
He’d make every single day count. Two months passed in a blur of moments, both precious and painful. Sienna had good days and bad days. On good days, she’d paint small watercolors in her studio, telling stories about Luna’s childhood that made them all laugh. On bad days, she barely left her bed, the pain medication making her foggy and distant. Elon learned to treasure the good days and endure the bad ones.
He also learned to be a father. Luna taught him, mostly without meaning to. She’d make off-hand comments about things she liked. A particular type of tea, a physics podcast, old science fiction movies, and Elon would file them away. The next day, that tea would appear in the kitchen.
The podcast would be downloaded on her tablet. They’d watch the movies together in the evening. “You don’t have to do all this,” Luna said one night after they’d finished watching 2001: A Space Odyssey for the third time. “I know. I want to. You’re trying to make up for 24 years in a few months. Yes, Elon admitted.
I know that’s impossible, but I have to try. Luna was quiet for a moment. It’s working. You know, I feel like I know you now, like you’re really my dad, not just someone who happens to be my biological father. The words made Elon’s throat tight. That means everything to me. They develop small rituals. coffee together every morning while Elon checked on his companies remotely. Afternoon walks in Riverside Park when Sienna was resting.
Evening discussions about science, the universe, and everything in between. Elon learned that Luna was vegetarian, terrible at cooking, and could recite pi to 50 decimal places. That she was afraid of heights despite her father building rockets. that she wanted to work on making Mars habitable, but felt guilty about it because it was his thing.
It’s not just my thing, Elon insisted. It’s humanity’s thing, and if you want to work on it, you should. You’d be brilliant at it. Really, really, when this is all over, he paused, the unspoken reality hanging between them. When you’re ready, there’s a place for you at SpaceX if you want it. No nepatism, no special treatment.
You’d have to earn it like everyone else. But the door is open. Luna’s eyes had filled with tears. Thank you. But as the weeks passed, Sienna grew weaker. The nurses came more frequently. Dr. Chen’s weekly visits became every few days, then daily. The good days became rarer. The pain medication doses increased.
One evening, about 10 weeks after their reunion, Sienna had a particularly lucid day. She insisted they all have dinner together at the table, something that had become difficult as her strength waned. The nutritionist had made Sienna’s favorite foods, even though she could barely eat anymore. But she picked at the meal, smiled at their conversation, and seemed more present than she had in days.
After dinner, Luna excused herself to call her research adviser. She’d been checking in weekly, keeping the door open to eventually return to her PhD work. Elon and Sienna sat in the living room, the painting of their family under the jackaranda tree visible on the wall across from them. “I need to tell you something,” Sienna said quietly.
“Something I should have told you 25 years ago.” Elon felt his stomach drop. “What?” “That last day before you left for Stanford in the airport parking lot.” Sienna’s hands trembled in her lap. “I knew. Knew what? That I might be pregnant. I was late and I’d been feeling strange, but I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to worry you right before you left.
Elon stared at her, processing. You suspected you were pregnant and you didn’t tell me. I wasn’t certain and I thought I thought if I was wrong, I would have ruined your departure for nothing. If I was right, I’d have time to figure out what to do. What to do? Elon’s voice was carefully controlled.
You mean whether to tell me? I mean whether to keep the baby at all. Sienna met his eyes. My parents wanted me to terminate the pregnancy. They said I was ruining my life. That I was too young. That I’d never be an artist if I had a baby. Elon felt cold. But you didn’t. No. Because even though I was terrified, even though I had no money and no support and no idea how I’d manage, it was ours, Elon.
Part you, part me. How could I not keep her? You could have told me. I would have helped you decide. Would you? Or would you have felt obligated to come back? To give up everything out of duty? Sienna’s voice was sad but firm. I didn’t want you to choose our baby out of obligation. I wanted you to choose your dreams, so I made the choice for both of us.
That wasn’t fair. No, it wasn’t. Nothing about this was fair. Sienna looked at the painting on the wall. But I’ve spent 24 years living with that choice, wondering if I did the right thing, watching you succeed and feeling proud and guilty in equal measure. Raising Luna alone and loving every moment while missing you desperately. Do you regret it? Elon asked.
Honestly, do you regret keeping it secret? Sienna was quiet for a long time. I regret that Luna grew up without a father. I regret that you missed her childhood. I regret the pain I caused both of you. She paused. But I don’t regret you becoming who you are. I don’t regret the thousands of people who have jobs because of your companies.
I don’t regret humanity being closer to becoming multilanetary because you had the freedom to chase that dream. So the ends justified the means. I don’t know if anything justifies taking a father from his daughter, but I did what I thought was right at the time. Sienna’s eyes filled with tears.
I was 20 years old, pregnant, abandoned by my parents, terrified out of my mind. I made the best decision I could with the information I had. Maybe it was the wrong decision. Maybe it was selfish, but it’s the one I made, and I’ve lived with it every day since.” Elon stood up, needing to move. He walked to the window, looking out at the garden where jackaranda blossoms were beginning to fall. “I understand why you did it,” he said finally. I hate it.
I hate that I missed everything. But I understand. Thank you, Sienna whispered. But I need you to understand something, too. Elon turned to face her. Every rocket that launched, every car that sold, every achievement you were so proud of. It all feels hollow now because the person I wanted to share it with wasn’t there.
You were there watching from the back of rooms, but I didn’t know it. I thought you didn’t care. I thought I’d build all of this and the one person who believed in me first had disappeared. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Elon. I know you are. He sat back down beside her. And I forgive you. I don’t know if I should. And I don’t know if it makes everything okay, but I do because you gave me Luna.
Because you raised her to be extraordinary. Because you loved me enough to let me go even though it cost you everything. Sienna reached for his hand, her grip weak but determined. I never stopped loving you. Even when I should have moved on, even when it would have been easier, the love just changed from wanting to be with you to wanting you to become everything you were capable of being.
I know you told me that in the park. Elon squeezed her hand gently, careful of how fragile she’d become. And I want you to know I never stopped loving you either. I tried. God knows I tried, but there was always this sienna-shaped hole in my life that nothing else could fill.
They sat in silence, holding hands, both crying quietly. Luna appeared in the doorway and stopped seeing them. “Should I come back later?” “No,” Sienna said, gesturing her over. “Come here, baby. I need to talk to both of you.” Luna sat on Sienna’s other side, and Sienna took her hand, too, connecting all three of them. I don’t have much time left, Sienna said bluntly. Dr.
Chen thinks maybe a month, maybe less. I can feel myself getting weaker every day. Mom, Don, uh, Luna started. Let me finish. Sienna’s voice was gentle but firm. I need to say this while I still can. I need you both to promise me something. Anything, Elon and Luna said together.
Promise me you won’t let my death define your relationship. Don’t let grief be the thing that bonds you. Sienna looked between them. Build something real. Something that isn’t about me dying, but about you living. About being father and daughter, not just two people who love the same woman.
Mom, promise me, Luna, you have your whole life ahead of you, a brilliant mind, important work to do, so much potential. Don’t let losing me stop you from becoming everything you’re meant to be. I don’t know how to do that, Luna whispered. Yes, you do. You’re my daughter. You’re strong enough to survive anything. And you’re Elon’s daughter.
You’re stubborn enough to succeed at impossible things. Sienna managed a small smile. The combination makes you unstoppable. She turned to Elon. And you don’t let guilt drive you. Don’t try to make up for 24 years by smothering Luna with attention she doesn’t need. Let her find her own way.
Be there when she needs you, but don’t try to be something you’re not. What am I supposed to be? Elon asked. Her father, not her savior. Not her project, just her father. Sienna squeezed both their hands. Love her. Support her. But let her live her own life. Let her make her own mistakes and her own achievements. I promise, Elon said. Me too, Luna added. Good. Sienna leaned back, exhausted from the conversation.
There’s one more thing, a letter. I wrote letters for both of you to be read after I’m gone. They’re in my studio in the top drawer of my desk. Don’t read them until after. Promise? We promise? They said together.
Sienna closed her eyes, a peaceful expression on her face despite the pain Elon knew she must be feeling. I’m so tired. Then rest, Elon said softly. We’ll be right here. Always so bossy, Sienna murmured, a hint of her old humor showing through. Some things never change. Luna laughed through her tears. He gets it from you. You were always telling him what to do. Someone had to. He would have worked himself to death otherwise.
Sienna’s voice was fading. Still would probably. Probably. Elon admitted. They sat with her as she drifted into sleep, the three of them connected by their hands and by bonds deeper than DNA or time or circumstance. Later that night, after Sienna was settled in bed with her night nurse nearby, Luna found Elon in the garden.
Can I ask you something? She said quietly. Always. Do you wish mom had told you 25 years ago? Honestly, do you wish you’d never become who you are? The question landed like a physical blow. Elon had been asking himself the same thing for 2 months. I don’t know, he said honestly. Both futures seem impossible to give up.
A life where I knew you from birth, where I was there for every moment where Sienna and I raised you together. That sounds perfect, but it would have meant not building SpaceX the way I did, not pushing Tesla forward, not making the impact I’ve made. So, you’re glad she didn’t tell you? No, I’m devastated she didn’t tell me. Elon looked at his daughter. But I also can’t imagine a world where you don’t exist exactly as you are.
Where I’m not who I am, where thousands of people don’t have jobs they love. It’s an impossible question with no good answer. Luna nodded slowly. I struggle with it, too. Sometimes I’m angry at mom for the choice she made. Sometimes I’m grateful. Sometimes I don’t know what I feel. That’s okay. You’re allowed to feel all of it.
They stood in silence, watching stars appear in the darkening sky. “When she’s gone,” Luna said quietly. “I’m going to feel so alone.” “You won’t be alone,” Elon said firmly. “I promise you that. I know I haven’t been there for 24 years. I know I’m still learning how to be your father, but I’m not going anywhere.
” “Do you mean that?” Absolutely. After your mom, Elon’s voice caught. After we’ll figure out what comes next together. You can stay here in South Africa if you want. You can come to California. You can finish your PhD. You can join SpaceX. You can do anything you want and I’ll support it. But you won’t be alone. Luna hugged him suddenly fiercely.
Thank you. Elon held his daughter under the stars. Both of them preparing for a loss that would change everything. Inside the house, through the window, they could see Sienna’s painting on the wall. Three figures under a jackaranda tree looking at stars. The family that time forgot. The family that found each other anyway.
The family that was running out of time. 3 weeks later, on a Tuesday morning filled with purple jackaranda blossoms, Sienna passed away peacefully in her sleep. Elon and Luna were both there, sitting on either side of her bed, holding her hands. The night nurse had called them at dawn when Sienna’s breathing changed.
They’d come immediately, still in pajamas, and hadn’t left. Sienna had opened her eyes once, looked at both of them and smiled. “My loves,” she’d whispered. “Thank you for finding each other.” Then she’d closed her eyes and simply stopped. The nurse checked her pulse, listened for breathing, and nodded gently. “She’s gone.
” Luna made a sound like a wounded animal and collapsed against her mother’s still body, sobbing. Elon sat frozen, unable to process what had just happened. One moment, Sienna was there, weak and sick. But there, the next moment, she was gone, just gone. He’d known it was coming. They’d had weeks to prepare. Dr.
Chen had warned them it would be soon, but knowing something and experiencing it were completely different things. Elon reached out with a shaking hand and touched Sienna’s face, still warm. But the life that had animated it, the intelligence, the humor, the fierce love had vanished. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for so long. I’m sorry
we lost so much time. I’m sorry.” His voice broke and he couldn’t continue. Luna lifted her head, her face red and wet. She knew. She knew you loved her. It wasn’t enough. It was everything. Luna took her mother’s hand, the one Elon wasn’t holding. She told me last week. She said the last 3 months were the happiest she’d been in 25 years.
That having us all together, even for such a short time, made everything worth it. Elon let the tears come. Then, deep wrenching sobs that shook his whole body. He’d cried when they’d reunited in the park. But this was different. This was grief without the buffer of hope. This was finality. Luna moved around the bed and wrapped her arms around him.
They held each other and cried for the woman who’d loved them both, who’d made impossible choices, who’d brought them together even as she was leaving. The funeral was small, held under the jackaranda trees in Riverside Park. Just as Sienna had requested in the letter she’d left, Luna and Elon had read their letters the day after she died, sitting together in Sienna’s studio, surrounded by her paintings.
Sienna’s letter to Luna was three pages of memories, advice, and love. She’d written about Luna’s first steps, first words, first everything. about how proud she was of the woman Luna had become, about how Luna should live fully, love bravely, and never be afraid to chase impossible dreams. The last paragraph had made Luna cry all over again. You are the best thing I ever created, Luna.
Better than any painting, any art, any achievement. You are half me and half your father, and that combination makes you extraordinary. Don’t let my death stop you from becoming everything you’re meant to be. I’ll always be with you in your stubborn determination that comes from Elon. In your compassion that I hope comes from me. In your brilliant mind that is entirely your own. Live, baby.
Live big and brave and beautiful. Make me proud. Though honestly, you already have. Sienna’s letter to Elon was shorter, but no less devastating. Elon, I I was wrong. That’s the hardest thing to admit, but I need you to know it. I was wrong to take the choice away from you. Wrong to decide what was best for everyone without asking. Wrong to let fear guide me instead of love.
But I was also right about one thing. You were always meant to change the world. And you have. You’ve done everything we talked about on that bench under the jackaranda trees and more than I could have imagined. Take care of Luna, not because you owe me anything, but because she’s extraordinary and she needs you.
Let her find her own path, even if it’s different from yours. Support her dreams, whatever they are. And please, please forgive yourself for the time we lost. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. Every moment of it. I loved you when we were 19. I loved you when I was pregnant and alone. I loved you from the back of every room I watched you succeed.
I loved you when you walked back into my life. I will love you after I’m gone. The painting is yours now. Yours and Luna’s. When you look at it, remember that love doesn’t always look like holding on. Sometimes it looks like letting go. And sometimes, if you’re very lucky, it looks like finding your way back. Thank you for the last 3 months.
Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for loving our daughter. Always yours, Sienna. Now standing beside Sienna’s grave as they lowered her simple casket into the ground. Elon held that letter in his pocket like a talisman. The service was brief. A few of Sienna’s art friends spoke about her talent, her kindness, her fierce independence. Luna spoke about her mother’s strength and sacrifice. Elon couldn’t speak.
His throat was too tight, his grief too raw. As the first shovel of earth fell on the casket, Luna reached for Elon’s hand. He took it and they stood together, connected by loss and love and the woman who’ brought them together. After everyone else had left, they stayed. Just the two of them under the jackaranda trees, purple blossoms falling like tears from heaven.
What do we do now? Luna asked quietly. We keep going, Elon said. Because that’s what she wanted. We don’t let her death define us. We let her life inspire us. I don’t know how to do that. Neither do I, but we’ll figure it out together. Luna leaned against him and Elon put his arm around her shoulders.
His daughter, 24 years old and motherless, brilliant and grieving and trying so hard to be strong. Will you go back to California? Luna asked. Eventually, I have to. The companies need me present at least some of the time. Elon looked down at her. But I want you to come with me. Not permanently if you don’t want to, but come visit.
See SpaceX, see Tesla, meet your half siblings. Let me show you the world your mother believed I could build. I have my PhD to finish. Finish it in California. Transfer to Stanford or Berkeley. I’ll help with whatever you need. Elon paused. Unless you want to stay here, I’ll support that, too. But I meant what I said. You’re not alone.
You’re not losing me just because you lost your mom. Luna was quiet for a long moment. Can I think about it? Of course. Uh, take all the time you need. They stood together as the sun began to set, painting the sky in oranges and purples that Sienna would have loved to capture on canvas. 6 weeks later, Luna stood in the lobby of SpaceX headquarters in California, staring up at a rocket hanging from the ceiling.
Her mouth was open in wonder. That’s the first Falcon 9 that successfully landed. Elon said, coming up beside her. We keep it here as a reminder that impossible things are possible. It’s beautiful, Luna whispered. Your mother was here when it launched, stood in the back of the viewing area. I didn’t know it at the time, but she was here.
Elon’s voice was soft. She saw this rocket go up and come back down. She was part of it, even though I didn’t know. Luna turned to look at him. She was always part of it. every achievement, every success, she was there, loving you from the shadows. I know that now. They’d spent the six weeks since Sienna’s death carefully building their relationship.
Luna had decided to transfer her PhD work to Stanford with Elon’s help. She’d moved into a small apartment near campus, insisting on her independence, even while accepting his support. They had dinner together twice a week, video called every few days. Slowly, carefully, they were becoming father and daughter instead of two people connected only by loss. Come on, Elon said. I want to show you something.
He led her through security, through corridors filled with engineers working on impossible problems until they reached his office. On the wall hung Sienna’s painting, the man who touched stars, the one she’d made when they were 20 years old. Next to it hung her final painting, the one of three figures under a jackaranda tree. Luna stopped, her eyes filling with tears. You hung them both.
I did. Every day I come to work, I see them. I see who I was when someone believed in me first. And I see who we became. Despite everything. Elon stood beside her, looking at the paintings. Your mother is still here, Luna. In these paintings, in you, in the choices I make because I knew her.
Do you think she’d be proud of what you built? Of us finding each other? I think she was always proud and yes, I think she’d be happy we’re trying to be a family. Luna wiped her eyes. I miss her so much. Me, too. They stood in silence, looking at the paintings that told the story of love and loss and impossible choices.
I have something for you, Elon said. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small box. Your mother left this with her lawyer to be given to you after. After Luna opened the box with trembling hands. Inside was a necklace, a simple silver chain with a small pendant shaped like a star and a note in Sienna’s handwriting.
Luna, this was the first thing your father ever gave me. He said I was his star. I wore it every day for 24 years. Now it’s yours. You are our star now. Shine bright. Love, Mom. Luna clutched the necklace to her chest, sobbing. Elon held her while she cried, his own eyes wet. When she finally pulled back, she looked at him. “Did you really give this to her?” “I did.
I bought it with money I’d saved for 2 months. It cost almost nothing, but it was everything I could afford.” Elon smiled sadly. I told her she was my north star, the thing that guided me. She kept it all this time. She kept everything that mattered. Luna put the necklace on, the star resting against her heart.
Will you tell me more stories about her? About both of you. Every story I remember. Every moment we shared. Elon gestured to the couch in his office. We have time now. All the time we need. They sat together and Elon told her about coffee shops and jackaranda trees, about dreams shared under stars, about a girl who believed in impossible things and the boy who loved her for it.
3 months later, Luna’s first day at SpaceX wasn’t nepotism. She’d applied like everyone else, interviewed like everyone else, and been hired for her quantum physics expertise. But Elon made sure to stop by her workstation at the end of the day. “How was it?” he asked. overwhelming, exciting, terrifying. Luna grinned. Perfect. Good. You’ll fit right in.
As they walked to the parking lot together, Luna said, “I’ve been thinking about something mom wrote in her letter about how love sometimes looks like letting go. What about it?” I think she was wrong about one thing. Love doesn’t just look like letting go. Sometimes it looks like holding on, even when it’s hard.
Even when you miss someone so much it hurts. Even when grief makes everything feel impossible. Elon stopped walking and looked at his daughter. You’re right. Your mother was brilliant, but she wasn’t always right. She brought us together, though. Even in dying, she brought us together. She did. They reached their cars parked side by side.
Above them, the California sky was turning purple with sunset. A single jackaranda blossom drifted down from somewhere, landing on Luna’s car. They both stared at it. There are no jackaranda trees here, Luna said quietly. No, Elon agreed. There aren’t. They looked at each other, both thinking the same thing, but neither saying it. She’s watching, Luna finally whispered.
She always was, Elon replied. Luna picked up the blossom carefully, tucking it into her notebook. I’m going to press it. Keep it. She’d like that. As they drove away in separate cars, heading to separate homes, but connected by bonds deeper than blood or time, Elon thought about the family they’d become, not the family they should have been.
Not the family 25 years of presence could have built, but the family they were forged in loss, strengthened by love, held together by the woman who’d believed in impossible things. Sienna had been right about one thing. Love didn’t always look like what you expected. Sometimes it looked like a painting of stars.
Sometimes it looked like a daughter you met too late. Sometimes it looked like finding your way back to someone you’d lost, even if you only had 3 months together. And sometimes, just sometimes, it looked like a jackaranda blossom falling in a place where no jackaranda trees grew, reminding you that some love never dies. It just changes form.
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