I never imagined that the same woman who swore she'd have my back would leave during my maternity recovery to help her son take care of another woman going through hers.
How absurd.
I looked at her and managed a small smile. "Mom, don't say that. Your health comes first. I'll be fine here."
Jean nodded, visibly relieved.
"Good. Good girl."
"Don't you worry. Once I've recovered, I'll come straight back and take care of you and the baby properly. I won't let you suffer one bit."
I gave a quiet laugh and said nothing.
Brad booked their flights for the next morning.
Early the following day, he and Jean showed up at my bedroom door with their luggage. They fussed over every detail—reminding me to keep warm, warning me not to touch cold water.
Maybe they genuinely worried. Or maybe they just wanted to put on a thorough performance.
They'd even taken a pen and jotted down a long list of reminders, leaving the notes on my nightstand. The way they fussed over every little detail, you'd think leaving was tearing them apart.
Jean wiped the corners of her eyes as she stepped out of the room.