"Mihail, can I speak to you?" Azalea knocked on the door to her son's bedroom.
"Mother, what brings you here?" He opened the door right away. It was late at night but the lights in his room were still on as he was buried under the paperwork.
"Look at you… What happened to my handsome son? Your face is so haggard now…" She was genuinely concerned. When she woke up after years in a comatose state, the first thing she saw was the teary but happy face of her children. They were both glowing like the angel sent from the heavens.
But now, Mihail's arms were thin as if it was him suffering from the sickness instead.
"It's alright, mom. I'm feeling good," he said but kept her warm hand on his face. He liked the gentle touch she was giving him, the embrace that made him feel safe no matter what he had to face.
