Why would he take the medicine she gave him?
Was it… trust?
But if this was trust, then why could he trust the pills in her hand, but not her feelings back then?
If he'd just trusted her a little more, maybe they wouldn't have broken up at all.
Now, this kind of trust just felt like a cruel joke.
Even in his sleep, his brow was knotted tight. A thin layer of sweat beaded on his forehead.
Rachel went to the bathroom, wet a towel with cool water, and came back. She gently dabbed the sweat from his skin.
"Mom… Mom…" he murmured, his voice so faint and broken it was barely a whisper. She had to lean in close to catch the words.
Was he… dreaming about his mother? Rachel's heart clenched.
She remembered him saying once that when he was little, his mother couldn't handle the poverty anymore.
She just… left. Left him and his father behind.
All these years, she'd never come back.
