(Author's POV)
"Mom." He knocked and pushed the door open. "Eat something. You need to keep your strength up."
She turned over slowly. Her eyes were swollen, the redness around them unmistakable even in the dim light.
"You cooked." Her voice came out rough.
"Chicken and rice soup. It's hot." He set the tray on the nightstand. "You should eat it before it gets cold."
She looked at him - really looked at him - and her face crumpled. She pressed her lips together hard, fighting it.
"I'll eat it in a bit," she managed. "Thank you."
"Mom." He sat on the edge of the bed. "What's going on? And don't say it's a cold, because your eyes don't look like that from a cold."
"It's nothing." She reached out and patted his hand once, quickly, like she couldn't bear the contact for long. "I'm just
