Tears pricked my eyes as I leaned closer, my heart pounding. Her gaze, once so sharp, was now unfocused, drifting between this world and whatever lay beyond.
“Mom?” I whispered, afraid that even my voice might shatter the fragile moment.
A faint smile ghosted her lips. “You stayed,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath.
“Of course, I did.”
She exhaled slowly, her fingers twitching against the blanket. I reached for her hand, startled by how cold it felt in mine.
For weeks, I had watched her slip away, piece by piece. But now, in this moment, it was as if she had gathered the last of her strength for something—one last thought, one last word.
Her lips parted, and I held my breath, waiting.