"What are you doing here, old man?" she said, mock-scolding him. "Don’t disturb Thaddeus and the baby! Out you go—the room stinks when you’re in it."
My dad, grumbling under his breath, left reluctantly. My mother, now smiling, turned to me.
"When will Elysia arrive?" she asked. "I want to time the cooking just right."
"She’s finalizing the formalities at the hospital," I replied. "She should be here soon. Don’t rush yourself."
At the mention of Elysia, my mother’s expression softened. She glanced at her hands—bony and worn from years of care—and sighed, as though hiding some unspoken emotion.
"Thaddeus," she said after a pause, her voice tender, "Elysia is a good woman. Your dad and I can see that. Girls like her who understand and care for their husbands are rare these days. You should give in to her more. Mom and Dad won’t always be here to guide you…"
Her words stirred something in me, and I found my eyes growing red. What a good mother—so loving, so patient. I nodded solemnly, pressing my lips tightly together.