"You've spent your entire life focusing on the sick and dying. Could you do me a favor, lăan?" Yâa Nao murmured weakly.
"Anything."
"Try to focus on the living also."
The moment Boun laid his eyes on the end-of-life care nurse who would see his a...
Hello, my lovelies, just reminding you all that this story visits the stages of grief, meaning Boun's precious grandmother will eventually pass away. From there, I'll continue the story with how Prem and Boun's supportive circle helps him navigate through his grief with tender, loving, care.
One Month Later...
Boun Point Of View
Ever since I was a child, once a month, I would meet with my mother at one of her favorite restaurants to 'catch up'. It was something I thoroughly enjoyed as a child before I realized who she truly was. Still, I forced myself to continue this 'tradition' well into adulthood. Perhaps I was hoping that one day she would change her selfish ways and love me the way a mother is supposed to love their child.
As the years went by, I knew that wasn't going to happen.
Maybe I was a glutton for punishment.
When she showed up thirty minutes late, I was relieved, as I would not have to put up with her shenanigans for too long.
When she waltzed in, all eyes were on her, because even well into her forties she was still an attractive looking woman. She was dressed in Fendi from head to toe, from the five-hundred-dollar shades she was wearing down to her eight-hundred-dollar high heels.
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I rose from my seat.
"Hello mother." I greeted her and plastered on a generic smile.
"Darling, it's so wonderful to see you!" She said extra adoringly taking ahold of both my hands, she then placed a quick kiss on each cheek.
"Likewise." I said dryly, as I pulled out her chair, easing it under the table as she sat.
I sat across from her.
She removed her costly sunglasses from her face.
"I'm terribly sorry for being late sweetheart, my pedicure went over schedule."
"It's fine." I knew her toes were far more important than me, "I took the liberty of ordering your food, it'll be here shortly."
"Thank you," She said graciously, "I see the wine is here already." She swirled the deep burgundy liquid, inhaled deeply, then sipped, "1949 Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru?" I nodded. "My favorite."
At six-thousand dollars a bottle, it should be.
"Let me take a look at you." She murmured after setting down her glass, "You get more handsome, every time I see you, thanks to my genes." She giggled.
I suppressed the impulse of rolling my eyes, as I looked exactly like my grandfather, my yaai's husband. I simply smiled instead.
After the waiter came with our food, my mother went into a tangent of how her month had been.
