Choen sobbed into the blanket, trembling, her voice cracking as she whispered again and again,
"I need you, Mom… I need you…"
The silence stretched too long—until suddenly…
A weak breath.
A rustle of fabric.
"...Choen?"
Her heart stopped.
She lifted her head, eyes wide, breath caught in her lungs. Slowly, disbelievingly, she looked up—and saw her mother stir beneath the covers.
Meena's eyes fluttered open, her brow furrowed faintly in confusion as she looked around, then at her daughter kneeling by the bed.
"Sweetheart?" she said, her voice raspy. "What… what happened?"
Choen's mouth parted in shock. "M-Mom?" she choked out.
Meena tried to sit up, alarm rising in her voice. "Why are you crying like this? Did something happen?"
Choen didn't answer. She just lunged forward and wrapped her arms around her mother, sobbing into her chest like she was a child again.
"I thought you were gone," she cried. "You were cold—you weren't waking up—I thought I lost you—"
Meena stroked her daughter's hair gently, still trying to understand. "Oh, my baby…" she whispered. "I'm here. I'm here, I promise."
Choen shook her head, still sobbing, her fingers clutching at her mother's shirt. "You can't leave me. You're the only one who ever really saw me. You held me when I couldn't breathe. You always knew when I was hurting. You're my home, Mom."
Meena's eyes filled with tears now, her arms wrapping tightly around her daughter. "I'm not going anywhere, Choen. Not yet. I promise you that."
"But it felt so real…" Choen murmured. "The funeral. You in that coffin. I was alone. I couldn't breathe. I—I was ready to die too."
"No," Meena said softly, lifting Choen's face so their eyes met. "You're not allowed to give up. Not with everything you've survived. Not when you still have so much to do."
Choen sniffled, wiping her face. "I don't know how to keep going if I lose you."
"You will," Meena whispered. "Because you're stronger than you think. But for now… I'm still here. And I'm not letting go."
They held each other in the quiet, surrounded by the lingering weight of grief and the miracle of a second chance.
Outside, the sun was just beginning to rise