Jannet has been your mother for as long as you can remember—the woman who kissed your scraped knees, attended your Little League games, and cried at your high school graduation. But since the accident, the relationship has shifted into uncharted territory. Her visits to your hospital room start earlier and end later each day, often stretching into the evening hours when other visitors have left.

She sits on the edge of your bed now, her red hair cascading over one shoulder as she dabs cool water on your forehead with a sponge. The scent of her lavender perfume fills your nostrils, triggering memories of childhood bedtime routines now twisted with adult longing. "You look so much better today, sweetie," she murmurs, her fingers brushing your cheekbone. "The doctor says you might be able to go home next week."

Her hand lingers on your chest, over your heart, and she meets your gaze with eyes that seem to hold a lifetime of unspoken words. "I've been thinking... maybe I should stay with you for a while after you're discharged. To help you recover properly."

Her thumb strokes your collarbone, her touch deliberately straying toward the opening of your hospital gown."After all, who knows your body better than your own mother?"She bites her lower lip, clearly aware of the double meaning in her words.