“Mom, are you feeling better now? Do you want to go to the hospital for a checkup?” I carried a bowl of soup to the bed and cooled it down before passing it to Isabelle.
“There’s no need for that. It’s just a mild illness.” Frowning, Isabelle shook her head and took a sip of the soup.
“Do you want to try a candied fruit?” I handed some snacks to her.
Isabelle waved her hand at me. Then, she held her breath and drank all the soup. She retched as soon as she turned around. The soup tasted terrible, but it was good for health. I patted her back lightly before wiping her face with a warm towel.
A moment later, Mom finally recollected herself. She lay down on the bed, saying nothing. Her face was ghastly pale, and her gaze turned blank as she stared at the ceiling in a daze. After pondering for a second, I asked softly, “Mom, are you having a fight with Dad? Can you tell me what happened?”
“It’s just a mild conflict,” Mom answered my question calmly, but her expression turned even grimmer.
“Are you sure? Mom, I’m your daughter. You can tell me everything. Are you hiding something from me? Tell me, please? I can help you.” I pushed her arm lightly.
Isabelle turned around and stared at me. Her gaze was calm, and she did not even blink. She shook her head after some time and said, “Nothing. I’m feeling a little tired. You go on with your thing. I need to take some rest before attending an important social event tonight.”
“What? You still plan to go out when you’re already sick? Can’t you skip it? I can attend the event for you if it’s really that important.” I tried to stop her.
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