Ardal
"Alright, Erbao," I whisper as I hold his hand, the dialysis machine humming beside us. The scent of sterilized medical equipment fills my nose, and I find myself gripping the edge of his bed to steady my trembling hands. "You're doing great, sweetheart."
"Thanks, Mommy," Erbao replies weakly, his brave smile not quite reaching his tired eyes. His pale complexion seems even more pronounced against the stark white hospital sheets.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my emotions in check. I know I need to be strong for my son, but the sight of him connected to the medical devices sends a cold chill down my spine. My heart aches for the innocence that has been stolen from him at such a young age.
"Hey there," Jack says softly, entering the room with a warm smile, his blond hair tousled f
