I ended the call after muttering ‘I’m on my way’ in a hurry.

I moved to the closet, picking any clothes my hand could land on, not bothering if it was suitable enough.

My mother asked for me—that meant one thing, that she remembered me.

My heart thundered against my chest at the thought.

She had not done that in a long time.

For months now—she had not remembered my name, but today—she even wanted to see ...