Natasha’s POV“Mom, at least eat something, please.”I pushed the bowl a little closer to her, the steam rising in soft curls from the porridge the maid had just brought. It smelt warm, faintly sweet, something that should have tempted her, but she only shifted on the bed and turned her face away.“I’m not hungry,” she muttered, her voice hoarse, carrying the same resistance it had carried for the past week.I sat on the edge of the mattress, looking at her, fighting the urge to snap. My patience had been stretched so thin that I felt it vibrating in me like a thread about to break. But this was my mother. I couldn’t break.“If you don’t eat, how then do you expect to get better?” I tried again, softer this time, almost pleading. “Your body needs food, you’ve been like this for days. Please, Mom.”Her eyes lifted to mine then, tired but sharp, the frustration there cutting deeper than I expected. “Food is not the solution to my problem, Natasha.”The words hit me like a weight. I look
Last Updated : 2025-09-12 Read more