Several days had passed since Lina's fingers had squeezed his.
Arin hadn't left the facility. He slept in the chair, ate when Maya brought food, and spent every waking hour by Lina's bedside. The treatment continued. Adanna reported small improvements each day. The gap was shrinking. Lina's vitals were stable. But she still hadn't opened her eyes.
Hana found him in the corridor one evening. The lights were low. The facility was quiet.
"You need to call your mother."
Arin looked at her.
"She's been alone for weeks. She doesn't know if Lina is alive. She doesn't know if you're alive." Hana's voice was soft. "She deserves to hear your voice."
He had been avoiding it. Every time he thought about calling, something stopped him. Fear. Guilt. The weight of what he would have to say.
"I don't know what to tell her."
"Tell her the truth. That Lina is safe. That she's being cared for. That you're with her."
"And the coma?"
Hana was quiet for a moment.
"Tell her when she's awake. Not before."
He nodded.
He walked to the end of the corridor, where the window looked out at the grey sky. He raised his wrist. The display glowed.
He pressed the call button.
The line rang once. Twice. Three times.
Then her face appeared.
"Arin?"
His mother's voice was hoarse. Her eyes were red. She looked thinner than he remembered.
"I'm here, Ma."
She stared at him for a long moment. Then her face crumpled.
"Lina—is she—?"
"She's alive."
The words came out steady, though his chest was tight.
"She's alive. We found her. She's safe."
His mother's hand flew to her mouth. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She didn't speak. She just cried, her shoulders shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Thank God," she whispered. "Thank God. Thank God."
Arin waited. He didn't rush her.
After a long moment, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Where is she? When is she coming home?"
"She's in a facility," he said carefully. "She's being treated. She's resting."
"Treated for what?"
"She was… they did something to her. But she's getting better. The doctors say she's improving."
His mother's eyes searched his face.
"Can I see her?"
Arin hesitated. Then he nodded.
"Yes."
He adjusted his wrist, switched the display to floating mode. The hologram expanded, filling the space in front of him. He turned it toward Lina's room, toward the bed where she lay sleeping.
His mother's breath caught.
"She's just sleeping," Arin said quickly. "The doctors say she needs rest. But she's safe. She's not in pain."
His mother stared at Lina's face. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Then she pressed her hand against the display, as if she could reach through it and touch her daughter's cheek.
"She looks so pale," she whispered.
"She's getting better," Arin said again. "I promise."
He didn't know if it was a lie. He hoped it wasn't.
His mother pulled her hand back and looked at him.
"And you? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine."
"You're lying."
He didn't argue.
She sighed. It was a tired sound, heavy with years of worry.
"You always were a terrible liar."
"How are you?" he asked. "Is the medicine working? Are you eating?"
"Don't worry about me."
"I'm going to worry anyway."
She almost smiled.
"I'm fine. The house is fine. Everything is fine."
"You're alone."
"I've been alone before."
"You don't have to be."
He paused.
"I'm sending someone to help you. A maid. She'll cook. Clean. Make sure you take your medicine."
His mother's eyes widened.
"Arin, that's not—"
"It's already arranged."
"You can't just—"
"I already did."
She stared at him for a long moment. Then she shook her head slowly.
"You're as stubborn as your father."
"I learned from the best."
She almost laughed.
"Fine. Send your maid. But I'm not going to be a burden."
"You're not a burden, Ma. You're my mother."
Her eyes glistened again.
"I love you," she said quietly. "Both of you. Bring her home."
"I will."
The call ended.
Arin stood in the corridor, the display dimming, his mother's face fading from the light.
He touched the crystal at his neck.
I will.
The next morning, a transport touched down at the facility.
A woman stepped off. She was middle-aged, her hair pulled back, her clothes simple but clean. She carried a small bag and a tablet.
Voss greeted her at the ramp.
"You're the one Arin sent?"
The woman nodded. "Yes. He arranged everything. The house, the supplies, the payment." She looked at Voss. "He said his mother needs someone to look after her."
"She does."
"Then I'll go."
She boarded a smaller transport and departed within the hour.
Arin watched from the window as the transport disappeared into the grey sky.
Hana stood beside him.
"She'll be okay," she said.
"I know."
"You did the right thing."
He didn't answer.
He turned and walked back to Lina's room.