"No," I said, my body trembling with strong emotions when I replied to my brother.
"Of course not. I am not going to leave."
I was not going to die.
Another three days passed, and the tension in the house slowly dissipated. My parents stopped looking at me every ten minutes. Mom still checked up on me every hour, but when she popped her head through the door, she no longer expected me to be lying unconscious on the floor or the bed.
She expected me to be playing some video games or watching TV.
After I got sick, Mom became a stay-home mom. She usually busied herself to take care of me. Now that she no longer had to do that, she felt oddly bored. Both of us were.
Once Mom managed to stop running around, we started spending a lot of time doing things together. Watching TV, cooking, and even cleaning the house.
