A cold feeling crept its way through Ling Fei's spine, like a snake slithering on his back. He gripped his mother's warm, but soft hand in his own as he sat next to her in their hut.
Her pale face and her labored breathing were all Ling Fei could truly see in the dimly lit room.
This wasn't like when she had gotten a cold before.
This wasn't something that would go away after a few days. Her face was slowly growing more gaunt and pale. This was far, far worse.
With a lump in his throat and his chest burning in sorrow and guilt, Ling Fei clenched his mother's cold, fragile hand in his own stronger one tightly.
The feeling of helplessness and failure was slowly seeping into him. If only he could have provided for her more. If only he were stronger. If only he could've stayed…
