Nyx’s POV
"Nyx, you don't have to work so hard. Look at me… I might not survive this. I'm getting weak daily.”
My mother's voice was barely above a whisper, frail and delicate like a thread ready to waver.
I tightened my fists at my sides, trying to keep my emotions in check. She looked worse than before—her once radiant skin had paled, her cheeks hollow, her lips dry and crushed. But her health reports told a different story. According to the doctors, she was improving, yet she was shattering right in front of my eyes.
Her body was fighting, but she was losing herself in the process, her physique, her figure.
I wasn’t ready to give up. No, I won't, until she's fine.
"Mom, don't say that," I pleaded, forcing a smile. "You will live. This isn't permanent. You'll be fine soon.
I strug
