On his way to the hospital, Noah Steele kept his head lowered, trying to avoid eye contact with the same group of overly enthusiastic neighborhood aunties who had been hunting for him all morning.
Just thinking about them made him shiver.
He rushed into a convenience store, bought a pair of sunglasses, and put them on like a fugitive trying to hide from the authorities. Only when he felt slightly more anonymous did he finally dare continue toward the hospital.
The second visit was easier—he already knew the way.
But standing at the door of his father’s room, he found himself unexpectedly nervous.
He inhaled deeply, steadied himself, and pushed the door open.
His mother shot upright from the chair beside the bed, tension instantly draining from her face when she recognized him.
“Xiao
