Evander's POV
I stepped into the hospital, feeling my stomach turn with each step. The sterile smell, the cold white walls—it was all too familiar, and it reminded me why I hated hospitals. If it weren't for Grandma, I wouldn't have set foot in here.
"Good morning, Master Evander," Nurse Julie greeted me politely. I gave her a quick nod and took a seat on the couch by the bed, my eyes falling on my sleeping grandmother. Her face looked pale and frail. She was nothing but a shadow of the strong woman I remembered.
For a moment, I wondered if she had been different when raising my father— if she had been soft and warm, or if she was as distant as the rest of our family. I couldn't picture it. Tenderness wasn't something we were taught to recognize or hold onto.
"How is she doing?" I asked, my voice sounded colder than I intended, but that was how I always sounded. Detached and cold!
