Anna’s POV
Anna’s vision blurred as she looked down at her mother’s hand. It felt like parchment—thin, translucent, and terrifyingly fragile. She traced the blue veins with her thumb, trying to anchor herself to the woman who was slowly slipping away.
“Don’t cry, my love,” her mother whispered. The smile she offered was a ghost of her former self, pale and flickering.
It didn't ease the ache in Anna’s chest. Every day, the cancer seemed to take another bite out of her mother, leaving behind someone smaller and weaker.
“How can I not?” Anna’s voice cracked, a jagged sob catching in her throat. “I miss the old you so much, Mom. I even miss you nagging at me every five minutes.”
A faint sparkle appeared in her mother’s tired eyes. “Give it time. I’ll be back to nagging you soon enough.”
