Chapter 144: The Sorrow of the Flame

Thelma Zane’s POV The faint voice of a woman echoed from upstairs, soft and weak, but filled with warmth. “Of course, baby. I like whatever you make.” The girl carefully carried lunch upstairs, her small hands balancing the tray as she approached the room. Her mother, once full of life and vigor, now appeared frail and drained of vitality. She sat leaning against a worn sofa near the stove, her pale face a ghost of its former self. Her thin frame seemed even more delicate in the flickering firelight. Only her eyes retained their brightness, twin orbs that gleamed like the sun, though the contrast between their brilliance and her declining health was unsettling. There was something almost otherworldly in that gaze—a light that did not belong in such a sorrowful setting. As they sat down to eat, the warmth of the fire offering a semblance of comfort, the room remained silent but for the soft clinking of spoons against bowls. The girl, lost in thought, finally broke the quiet