The next morning, Marianne slowly opened her eyes and glanced to the side. By the counter in the hospital ward, she spotted her five-year-old son, carefully trying to make tea for her. A soft chuckle escaped her as she quietly observed him, noticing how he was determined to get everything right, even though he wasn’t very skilled at it.

When she saw him start to approach, she quickly closed her eyes, pretending to still be asleep.

Emilio gently placed the cup of tea on a tray beside her bed, then climbed onto the bed to sit next to her.

“Mom?” he whispered, but she kept her eyes shut. Not wanting...