"Let me help you, Mom," David said warmly as he carefully guided Sandra, who still looked rather weak after spending the entire morning in shock and emotional turmoil.
Sandra gave him a gentle smile, clearly touched by her son's kindness. Allowing herself to lean into his support, she walked with lighter steps as David held her hand.
Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Al, who was trailing behind them at an unhurried pace. Unlike David, Al did not show the slightest initiative to offer warmth or tender care. His gaze wandered lazily across his surroundings instead, as though his mother's fragile state had nothing to do with him.
The sight left Sandra with a bittersweet ache in her chest. Al was her true-born son, yet he looked so distant, so apathetic.
