Luke finished his lunch and told his mother he'd be heading over to help Dalia with her treatment.
"Are you sure, son? You must be tired," she said gently, concern softening her voice. "You should rest."
He shook his head. "It's okay, Mom. I'm rested now. I already missed yesterday—I don't want to leave her waiting another day."
Monica searched his face for a moment, then gave a small, knowing nod. She understood. Stopping Dalia's treatment halfway would undo all the progress, and after everything the poor woman had endured for so long, leaving her unfinished felt almost cruel.
She sighed softly. "Alright then, go. But promise me you'll rest a little before you report to the chief, okay?" Rising from her chair, she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair with tender affection, smoothing it back the way she always used to when he was younger.
