96
~Lisa's POV
The days that followed blurred together like a watercolor left in the rain. Morning would come, and I'd already be awake, sitting by Papa's bedside with dark circles under my eyes. I barely left the room, only to fetch water, warm broth, or open the door for the physician when he arrived.
At first, I thought Papa was getting a little better. His fever wasn't as high anymore, and he could open his eyes longer. He even smiled at me once, just for a second, but it had lit up my entire chest like the sun had peeked through the clouds.
But then… things started changing.
Little things, at first. Things I didn't want to notice.
On the third day, I tried feeding him some thin porridge I had made. He had eaten a little bit the day before, so I was hopeful. I sat beside him with a warm bowl, stirred it gently, and lifted the spoon to his mouth.
"Papa," I said softly, "you need to eat something."
He didn't answer.
"Just a little. Please."
