"They are both doing great. Amelia and my mum send their greetings." Blaze replied.
Gregory's smile widened. "That's good to know. Please extend my greetings to her and tell her that I've missed her a lot."
"About that, I was hoping if I could see you in person. Amelia has been dying all day to speak to you."
"Really..." Gregory turned around to look at his sleeping mom and froze when their eyes met. He peeled the phone from his ear and hurried over to her bed, his gaze softening.
"Mum..." He whispered, stroking her frail, greyish white hair while planting a soft kiss on her forehead.
"You came," Nana Shawl whispered, her voice a fragile rasp, thin and cracked with weakness. Each breath was laboured with the oxygen tube nestled beneath her nostrils, hissing softly.
Yet, despite it all, she mustered a faint smile—tender and warm enough to melt the heaviness in her son's heart.
"Yes, Mom. I came as quickly as I could." Gregory kissed her on the forehead. "How are you feeling?"
