Lyerin watched as Lina hurried out of the room, her movements sharp, betraying the urgency she tried to hide behind a facade of maternal concern.
The door clicked shut, Kabam! leaving him alone in the dim, stifling room.
He stood there for a moment, frozen in place, before letting out a long, tired breath.
His eyes wandered around the room, taking in the details of the space that was unmistakably his mother's.
The room was filled with Lina's presence, every inch of it saturated with her essence. His gaze landed on a delicate porcelain vase sitting on a small wooden table by the window.
The vase was painted with intricate patterns of blue and white, a design so familiar that it tugged at something deep within him.
He remembered it from his childhood, how Lina would carefully arrange fresh flowers in it every morning, her movements graceful and precise.
