Before I could force a single word past my lips, our gazes locked across the distance.
She immediately tugged at Alex, signaling him to leave, but the boy dug his heels in.
"Look, Mom! The big sister is here. She wants to see you."
He pulled hard against her grip, dragging her over to me with visible effort.
"Hello. We meet again."
She offered a polite smile, but the warmth didn't reach her eyes. Behind that mask, I saw nothing but displeasure.
But I had no choice. I was sick. Without money, I was going to die.
"You went to such lengths to track me down," she said, her voice low. "What is it?"
I opened my mouth to explain, but she cut me off. "Too many people here. If you have something to say, let's go somewhere private."
She turned on her heel, and I followed fifty meters behind, maintaining the distance she clearly desired. Only when she was sure no one was watching did the tension in her shoulders ease.
One in front, one behind, we slipped into a narrow alley.
Danny and Alex waited at the entrance, guarding our privacy.
"Speak," she commanded. "What is it?"
"Am I an embarrassment to you?"
She lowered her head, her face blank. When she finally spoke, her voice was flat, stripped of any maternal warmth. "It's about avoiding suspicion. I don't want people to misunderstand our relationship."
My fingers twitched, reaching to pinch the frayed hole at my sleeve cuff—a nervous tic I'd developed over the years. I pinched at the fabric for a long moment before realizing there was nothing there.
I was wearing the outfit I'd changed into specifically for this morning. The most decent clothes I owned, free of holes and patches.
"I need to go home and cook for Alex," she said, checking her watch.
She turned to leave. Panic surged through me, and I rushed forward. My hand reached out to stop her, but I froze inches from her brand-new fur coat, afraid to tarnish it with my touch.
"Can you give me some money?" The words tumbled out. "I'm sick. I want to—"
"I knew it." She scoffed. "I knew you came to ask for money."
"No, please. I've contracted a serious illness. I just—"
"Enough!" Her voice rose, heavy with annoyance.
With a sigh, she opened her wallet, grabbed every bill inside—a messy handful of cash—and thrust it toward me.
Without another word, she hurried away. But after six or seven steps, she stopped.
I looked up, hope fluttering in my chest. Did she care?
"You have to forgive me," she said without turning around. "I want to take you away, truly, but I have no way to do it. Your brother is still little. You're already a sensible child; you understand."
She paused. "Alex's eyes are failing. I'm handling his withdrawal from school to focus on treatment. In the next few years, we probably won't see each other again."
I stood frozen. I couldn't feel my face. It was as if my features had detached themselves from my nerves.
I wanted to smile, to wave and say it was okay, but my hands disobeyed me, clenching into tight fists. The corners of my mouth felt stapled shut.
Their footsteps faded until the alley fell completely silent.
I lowered my head and stared at the money in my hand—crisp large bills mixed with crumpled small change. A quick mental calculation confirmed what I already knew. Compared to the astronomical cost of treatment, this was a drop in the ocean.
If nothing unexpected happens, I thought bitterly, she won't need to take the initiative to distance herself. Before long, we wouldn't be able to see each other at all. Not because of her choice, but because I wouldn't be here.
I didn't walk home with Danny.
Instead, I took a bus to the biggest hospital in town. It was my first time in such a massive facility. The lobby ceiling seemed miles high, making me feel incredibly small. Everyone bustling around me was dressed in bright, clean clothes, contrasting sharply with the gray dread settling in my stomach.
A nurse guided me to the examination room. I was so distracted by the sheer scale of the place that, for a moment, I forgot why I was there.
When the results came back, the doctor didn't look at me. He just sighed, over and over again.
"Where is your mother?"
I stayed silent.
He sighed again. "Hurry and have your family bring you in for surgery. It's stomach cancer. Late stage."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis.
"I'll prescribe you some medicine. Take it twice a day. It will help manage the pain."
He handed me two boxes of pills. He had to repeat the instructions three times before the words penetrated the fog in my brain.
Clutching the medicine, I stumbled out into the corridor.
Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the sterile air.
"Doctor, is there still no cornea source? My son can't wait much longer. I'm begging you. I'm willing to pay double—triple!"
