Annabelle’s days at the hospital bled into one another.

The white walls of her mother’s private room seemed to close in on her as time dragged by.

She had chosen not to leave. Not even for a night.

So she stayed with her mother as the older woman slowly regained her strength.

It wasn’t that Mauve asked her to.

It was that Annabelle couldn’t bring herself to go.

The air was thick with antiseptic and the soft hum of hospital machinery.

The room itself was simple but comfortable, with pale beige walls and a view overlooking the hospital courtyard.

A bouquet of fresh lilies sat on the windowsill.

Their sweet...