They practised for nearly another hour. Verena's performance was still less than ideal, just like the first time, but the second attempt was better; she completed a round without wearing any slippers.
Her teacher, Priscilla, positioned her upright on the chilly floor, stood behind Verena, and coached her in the art of walking.
As lunch time approached, Verena ate without any trouble. Exhausted, she took a short nap.
Meanwhile, Louis headed to the hospital, where he was greeted by guards stationed outside his mother's room.
Upon entering, he found his mother sleeping and took a seat beside her, quietly observing her slow, rhythmic breaths.
His attention was fixated on the blood-stained cloth in her hand, a sight that tugged at his heart.
Witnessing his mother's frailty was heart-wrenching for Louis.
He reached out and tenderly held her hand, making an unspoken vow to do whatever was necessary to improve her condition.
The sight of the blood on the cloth intensified his determination, motivating him to explore alternative treatments or seek the world's best medical experts. He recognised his duty to be a pillar of strength for his mother, even amid uncertainty.
He prepared to leave to speak with the doctor when a movement caught his eye. He turned back to see his mother stirring, now coughing.
"Mother..." His voice prompted her to open her watery eyes and offer a smile in response to his concerned expression.
She placed her cleaned hand on his cheek and whispered, "Don't worry, my dear. Despite my weakness, I'll battle with all the strength I have left."
After a brief pause to catch her breath, she continued, "You've always been my rock, my source of strength."
She added, "now it's my turn to stand strong for you. We'll confront this uncertainty together and emerge even stronger."
Her words instilled in him a renewed sense of hope, reassuring him that he wasn't navigating this struggle alone.
"Mother... you've endured so much because of them." He sniffed and spoke, "Why do you still wish to remain connected to them? Are you not aware of the potent curse of Heisenberg? Why hold onto the Heisenberg name all these years?" Louis' words lingered in the air, a blend of frustration and confusion.
Joanne paused, her gaze drifting towards the horizon as memories resurfaced.
The family's trials and tribulations, the sacrifices they'd made, and the resilience they'd discovered within themselves...
"I can't bring myself to do it. Ever since you were in my womb and he betrayed me, I've held onto my love for that person. I never realised that all these years I would be living a life called..."
"Mother..." Louis cried out, tears falling onto his mother's hands.
Seeing his whole world cry like this made her heart fragile, bringing tears to her own eyes. But in her weakened state, even a slight change in her behaviour could prove fatal.
Joanne had been diagnosed with cancer three months ago, though she had kept it hidden from her son. But how long could the truth remain concealed? Louis swiftly moved her to the hospital, enlisting the best doctors in the country to treat her.
The doctors exhausted all efforts, but the woman's coughing of blood persisted. Their only hope was that she would hold on long enough for them to treat her and settle the payments.
Determined, Louis resolved to take her to another country for treatment. However, their family doctor advised him against unnecessary relocation, as it could hasten her demise.
Louis trusted his uncle more than anyone else in his family; he wasn't inclined to doubt the advice. So, he refrained from moving his mother and allowed her to rest, knowing how weary she was from the trials of life.
Such a fate terrified him; the thought of losing his mother was unbearable.
"Promise me, mother, that you'll make it? That you won't leave me alone?" Louis, a formidable figure at work, now sobbed uncontrollably, begging his mother to stay with him.
"I promise you, my tiger. I'll be here for you as long as you need me. Even if I can't make it, I'll still be near you. Remember this, alright?" Louis nodded through his tears, wiping both his and his mother's cheeks.
"Alright, mother. I'm not worried anymore. You can rest now. I'll talk to the doctors about your health and your new medications." Louis stood up, his face still damp but his tears spent.
As he moved to leave, Joanne gestured for him to sit. He obeyed, puzzled by her sudden request.
"When are you planning to bring her home?" Joanne inquired.
It suddenly struck him that he had meant to inform his mother about the girl. "Yes, mother. She's at home. I brought her there last night. She had a good sleep; I made sure of it."
He hurried to provide the update, not wanting to leave any relevant details about the girl his mother cherished.
"Really? Thank goodness. I feel relieved now."
"Why, mother? Why do you care so much about her? Do you know who Verena is?"
Louis persisted; though he had asked this question many times before, his mother had never divulged more than her acquaintance with Verena.
Joanne pressed a smile and said. "I'll tell you once you marry her," she promised.
"Mother," he sighed, exasperated by her response. She had been saying this for many years.
"What? When are you going to bring her to meet me?" She asked with anticipation now. "I'm eager to meet my daughter-in-law in person. I'm dying to meet her."
Louis' expression shifted, and he spoke with determination: "Mother, you don't have to be near death to meet her. I'll bring her over; just please don't use that word again."
Joanne realised her choice of words and playfully covered her ears in a childish way, seeking his forgiveness. Even with wrinkles marking her aged face due to illness, she retained fair skin and graceful features.
Louis couldn't help but grin at his mother's antics, embracing her before departing to meet the doctor.
After his conversation with the doctor, Louis made his way back home, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and concerns.
The grand mansion greeted him with its stately silence, a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions within him.
Seeking solace, he decided to visit the well-appointed alcohol room nestled within the estate.
He entered the room, the rich aroma of aged wines immediately enveloping him. Anna, one of the maids, stood nearby, attending to her duties.
Louis addressed her with a wearied tone, "Anna, could you please open the wine cellar for me?"
Anna nodded respectfully and began to unlock the cellar's entrance. As the door swung open, the room revealed its treasures—an array of carefully curated wines and spirits. Louis selected a bottle almost instinctively, pouring himself a glass of deep red wine.
Sipping the wine, he sighed, his thoughts straying to Verena. Turning to Anna, he asked softly, "How is Verena doing?"
Anna met his gaze, her expression sympathetic. "Young Master Louis, Young Mistress Verena is resting. She's asleep in her room."
Louis acknowledged with a nod before taking another sip of his wine. "You can go now." He ordered and the maid walked out of the room.
Louis contemplated the situation, his concern for Verena adding to the weight on his mind.
Compelled by a mixture of worry and an unspoken curiosity, he headed towards Verena's room.
The soft glow of the garden lights filtered through the curtains, casting an ethereal ambiance.
As he entered, his eyes fell upon Verena, dressed in the same white and pink floral dress she had worn earlier.
The dim light accentuated her delicate features, rendering her an almost otherworldly presence. He blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his emotions.
His heart quickened its pace, a sensation he hadn't quite experienced before. It was a change he had actively avoided, consciously keeping his distance from her.
For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to lean in, his breath brushing against her flawless skin. But as the intensity of his feelings washed over him, he abruptly halted, realising the line he was treading.
With gentle restraint, he pulled the covers over her still form, his touch tender yet distant.
Exiting the room, he felt a mixture of emotions swirling within him. On his way to the wine cellar, he encountered Liliya, another maid. He paused, his thoughts forming a plan.
"Liliya," he addressed her, "when Verena wakes up, let her know I'd like to speak with her."
Liliya nodded, receiving the instruction, and Louis continued his journey to the wine cellar.
As he selected another bottle and poured himself a glass, his thoughts remained tangled with concern for his mother and the unexpected stirrings within himself for her.
May be, he was just attractive to her, he thought and took a sip of wine.