“Stay right here, Angie. Drink this herbal broth,” Mom said softly, pressing a warm bowl into my hands. Her voice was gentle but carried the weight of centuries of maternal instinct. “It's good for the little one.”

“Mom, you really don't have to—“

“Hush now, just drink,” she whispered, her hand resting briefly on my hair. Her eyes held a world of unspoken worry and fierce determination. “You're not nearly strong enough yet. Let your mom handle things for a while.”

Left with no choice, I took the bowl and drained the herbal brew in one go. It was agonizingly bitter—the unmistakable, sharp sting of a potent blend of rare...