Two months later, my mom got worse. The cancer had spread to most of her organs and lymph nodes. She couldn’t even walk on her own anymore; I had to wheel her everywhere. Dad was more absent than ever, barely a shadow in our lives. Ali still came over, but not as often as he used to. Everything just felt... wrong.
“It’s risky...” Fiona said, taking a long sip of her iced lemon tea, her gaze distant.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, glancing at Ali, who sat next to me. Fiona was across from us, her eyes fixed on me as if trying to read my thoughts.
“I don’t think so,” I replied quickly, shrugging as if it were no big deal. I felt Ali’s eyes on me, and I knew he was looking for any hint that I actually cared.