Why is she raising that question now?I opened my mouth, but before I could object, Mom held up her hand. “Will you promise me?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.I stared at my hands, unable to meet Mom's eyes.My birthday. Of all days, she chose my birthday to ask this of me. The irony wasn't lost on me. On the day that marked my beginning, we were talking about her end.I wanted to tell her no, that this wasn't fair. How could she ask me to be happy without her? She was my home, my everything. Since Dad died, it had always been just us, so how could I bring myself to smile, to laugh, and pretend everything is alright without her?"Y-you w-won't be leaving, right?" My voice cracked, betraying the fear I tried so hard to hide. Deep down, I knew the answer. I also knew that I couldn't live without her.Her face bore the map of her struggles. Deep lines around her eyes, hollow cheeks, skin that had long lost its glow. But her eyes... her eyes still held that fierce love that had
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