~Ethan
I carried the small tray with my mother’s pills balanced in one hand, a glass of water in the other. I’d made this same trip every day since she came back, but today felt different. This morning, she’d looked pale and fragile, like someone made of glass. She’d barely said a word when I checked on her earlier, lying there under the covers, barely moving.
But now...
The moment I opened the door to her room, I froze.
There she was, sitting on the edge of her bed, brushing her hair with deliberate care. But she didn’t look like the mother I’d grown used to these past two days. No, this version of her was something else entirely—alive, radiant, like she’d stepped straight out of a memory from 25 years ago. Her skin glowed, her hair shimmered like spun gold, and the dark circles t
