Hearing the lady speak in such a dreamy, entrancing voice, she instinctively reached out her hand and asked,
"Please... give me the stone."
Florence slowly placed the stone into her hands. It shimmered with shades of emerald green, streaks of milky white, and deep midnight blue, its faint glow pulsing like a living heartbeat.
She gently cupped her face and whispered, "Close your eyes."
Guiding her with delicate hands, the lady led her to a bed and carefully laid her down. Then, stroking her hair with an almost motherly tenderness, she began to sing a strange, haunting lullaby. The melody was soft yet unfamiliar, carrying an eerie tranquility that slowly lulled her into a deep, dreamlike sleep.
Hours later, a throbbing ache spread through her head.
Brooklyn's eyelids fluttered open, blinking against the blinding white light above. Everything around her was hazy, her vision flickering as she struggled to wake completely.
Slowly, her gaze wandered across the room.
Her breath caught.
Her mother sat quietly beside the bed, absentmindedly holding a bowl of noodles she had long forgotten to eat. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as she sobbed, trying to keep her cries from reaching her daughter.
Her eyes shifted again.
Her father was rushing frantically in and out of the room, speaking to nurses and doctors, arranging everything he could for her treatment. Though he never knew how to express his love with words or affection, she had always understood him.
When it truly mattered...
He was always there.
Her lips trembled as she struggled to find her voice.
"...Mom?"
It was no more than a broken whisper, barely louder than a breath.
Yet the single word echoed through the room.
Her mother's hands froze midair. The bowl slipped from her trembling fingers, clattering against the floor as she slowly lifted her tear-filled eyes toward the bed.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
The room fell into a silence so profound that even the sound of breathing seemed to vanish.
Then, their eyes met.