I repeated myself, “It wasn’t good.”
Hope seemed to leave Camelia’s gaze almost instantaneously. Her entire demeanor darkened, which suggested that this outcome had not been within her expectations.
And why wouldn’t she be disappointed? She had made such a huge sacrifice by bringing the woman Marcus loved to his deathbed, yet he showed no sign of improvement.
All she wants is for her beloved husband to live. It’s not too much to ask, yet no one can give her the answer she seeks or dissuade her from her mission.
Taking in Camelia’s pale countenance, it was not difficult to tell that she had not been eating properly for a while now. After some coaxing, we managed to usher Camelia and her son to a nearby Chanaean restaurant.
Ashton ordered eight dishes, and the food arrived in quick succession.
Camelia remained in poor spirits. She turned to her child and said simply, “Let’s eat.”
With that, she picked up her fork and immediately got lost in her thoughts. She was so still that she resembled those living statues on the streets.
I sighed before filling the bowl in front of me with some soup. “You need to take care of yourself. If you fall sick too, who’s going to take care of Marcus?”
Then, I stood up and placed the bowl in front of her child while coaxing, “Be a good boy and eat. You need to eat well so you can take care of your mommy.” I started ladling some soup for Camelia in the meantime.
Thankfully, the boy had not inherited Marcus’ or Camelia’s trademark obstinance. He glanced at his mother before quietly picking up his spoon to eat.
When I returned to my seat, Ashton had placed a bowl of soup in front of my plate.
I smiled at Ashton gratefully. My gaze darted to Marcus’ son several times as he ate, and I asked, “What’s your name?”
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