Anton's condition finally improved.
He was able to get out of bed, and aside from a slight cough now and then, he seemed almost fully recovered.
The priest visited almost every day to check on Anton, but curiously, he always showed up right after Anita left.
I found this coincidence odd, but I didn't think much of it.
One afternoon, the priest stayed for lunch. I prepared a simple pasta and salad. After we ate, Anton went for a nap, and the priest read him a story from the Bible, lulling him to sleep.
"Father, Anton's getting better, thanks to God and to you. But I'm worried." I looked at him with concern. "Does he really have to go back to the Spartan school? That place..."
My voice faltered, catching in my throat. I couldn't bear the thought of this five-year-old boy returning to s
