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Paetyn's POV

"How is she doing on the new medication? There haven't been any complications, have there?"

Dr. Charles Barney shakes his head. Strands of thin silver hair fall over his pale brown eyes. He makes no move to push them out of his line of sight, instead choosing to ignore their existence and look down at the chart gripped firmly in his hands. "As of right now, she's responding well to the chemotherapy, but we will ensure we keep a close eye on her at all times. If anything goes wrong with the process and we need to go down a different path of treatment, you'll be the first to know, Paetyn. The cancer is different this time. Stronger. But... we'll figure it out."

I breathe a sigh of relief, my shoulders slumping ever so slightly. Knowing that Mom is being taken care of by the wonderful team at the hospital, led by Dr. Barney, brings a sense of peace I have been searching for since the moment she was admitted many months ago. Taking care of a parent is hard enough for anyone because they don't want to see their loved one in a situation that requires such care from their child. But it's a whole different ballpark taking care of a cancer-filled parent who loves you too much to want you to see them like that-sick and afraid.

Mom knew something was wrong with her for quite some time before she decided to go in and get tested to see what was going on the first time she started feeling bad, about five years ago. She was a busy woman with a corporate job in marketing, going on dates after my father left her a few years before that, with a jam-packed social life. A woman like that doesn't want to admit that something is wrong with her. To admit that is to realize that the life you once knew, filled with fun and exciting times, was probably never going to be the same again. She beat cancer once before, but now it is back with a vengeance.

"Thank you," I say softly, forcing a smile. It's hard to smile when my mom is going through chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. "Knowing you're taking care of her puts my mind at ease, so thank you."

Dr. Barney pats my shoulder, his smile tight. "It's no problem, really. Your mother is in good hands with us." He stands upright, his eyes focused on mine. In an apologetic tone, he says, "These treatments are very expensive but well worth it."

I swallow hard, trying not to reveal the worry that zapped through my body seeing the amount of digits at the end of the bill I'd recently received. We've managed to pay all the previous bills, with the help of my fiance, but it is still scary every time I get a massive bill like that. "Yes, they are expensive. Rest assured that the bill will be paid on time."

Dr. Barney nods uncomfortably. I'm sure he wasn't trying to imply I wouldn't pay the bill, but I've always been touchy about such things, especially since Mom's insurance had lapsed right before she was diagnosed.

Before the doctor can respond, a nurse taps him on the shoulder, calling him away to another patient. He bids me goodbye before rushing away in the opposite direction. I watch the back of his head until he's no longer in view. He's a rather young-looking man, possibly in his late to mid-forties. But the gray hairs indicate how much he has aged from this job, which is fair enough. Working in the healthcare sector is no easy task.

I hesitate before entering my mom's room. Closing my eyes, I slow my breathing, not wanting her to see the stress and worry I'm sure is written all over my face. Mom is a strong person, so I need to be the same.

The door to the private room creaks open. Mom is propped up in bed watching television, her pale blue eyes focused on the tiny screen protruding from the wall opposite her. She mindlessly braids the ends of her blonde hair before untying the knots and starting again. It's a habit I've seen her do many times when I was a child. After three rounds of chemo, her hair is starting to thin considerably and is falling out in places, but it doesn't stop her from playing with what hair she does have left. When she loses all of her hair completely, she will have to find something else to fidget with.

As I walk further into the room, her eyes snap to meet mine. They light up instantly, and a smile curves her plump lips. "My sweet, Pae. I thought I wasn't going to see you today."

I pull out the chair beside her bed and settle down, ignoring how cold the plastic feels against my clothed thighs. One of the things I despise most about hospitals is how goddamn cold it is here. Would it kill them to turn the heat up a little? Especially during winter.

"I managed to get off work early and thought I would stop by to see you." My eyes scan over the white hospital gown hanging off her frail torso and the crease lines forming at the corners of her eyes and lips. She appears much older and more frail than a normal fifty-year-old woman. Having cancer will often do that to a person. "How are you feeling after this round of treatment?"

Mom waves me off with her hand. "I'm fine, sweetie. You don't need to worry about me. The team here are taking great care of me." She shifts in her spot and reaches out for my hand, which I gladly extend. She feels warm in my grasp, reminding me of when I was a little girl and would only find comfort in the touch of my mother's hand. I still feel that way even as a twenty-six-year-old woman. "Tell me what's new with you. How's work and that fiance of yours?"

"Work is fine. I have gained a lot of new clients over the past few weeks due to our other office branch closing, so that has been keeping me busy."

She smiles. "You're such a hard worker, Pae. Always have been. I remember when you were just ten years old, you told me how much you wanted to help people. I thought at the time you meant as a medical doctor or something. Turns out you are an up-and-coming psychologist in New York City. You're so close to making it big, sweetheart. I couldn't be prouder."

"It's nothing, really." I love to hear my mother's praises as she has always been my number one supporter all through high school, university, and the many placements I had to do to get to where I am now. But at the same time, I don't enjoy talking about myself in that way. I'm proud of myself, don't get me wrong, but I'm more of a quiet achiever.

"How is Liam?" She changes the subject upon seeing my reluctance to talk about myself and my career. "I haven't seen him for a little while. Is everything okay?"

Ah, yes. Liam. My fiance.

"He's good. Just busy with the campaign. I'm sure you've seen him a lot on the news lately." The smile on my face doesn't quite reach my eyes speaking about my fiance. "He did ask me to tell you hello. With his campaign in full swing at the moment, he finds it hard to get away from the campaign trail on time most days. But we're doing good."