Silence.
Deep silence.
Then Mama Grace whispered, “Jesus is Lord.”
The doctor blinked rapidly. “I have been treating this boy for five years…”
He pointed slowly.
“…and this is what works?”
Mama Grace covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “It seems so.”
They both stood there for a few seconds longer—watching, processing, shocked.
Then Mama Grace whispered, “Let’s go.”
The doctor nodded quickly. “Yes, before we see what we are not supposed to see.”
They quietly closed the door and left.
Inside the room, Ma moved slightly, stretched, then slowly opened her eyes.
“Ah…”
She smiled. “That sleep was—”
She turned her head and saw him.
Anthony.
Right beside her.
Sleeping close.
Very close.
Her brain shut down.
Then restarted violently.
“Wait.”
She jumped up slightly, then froze again.
“Why am I on his bed?”
Memory hit her like a slap.
Gala. Drink. Car. Blur.
“Ah, I am finished.”
She placed both hands on her head. “I have crossed the line. I have entered prison.”
She tried to quietly leave the bed—slowly, carefully.
But just as she moved, a hand grabbed her wrist.
Firm. Warm.
She froze completely.
Slowly turned.
Anthony’s eyes were open, watching her.
Calm. Soft.
“Where are you going?”
Ma swallowed. “Nowhere.”
“Then why are you sneaking?”
She blinked rapidly. “I was not sneaking. I was relocating.”
He raised an eyebrow. “From my bed?”
Ma covered her face. “Sir, I am sorry. I did not plan this. The drink planned it.”
Anthony sat up slowly, still holding her wrist—but gently.
“I brought you here.”
Ma paused. “You did?”
“Yes.”
She blinked again, confused.
“You didn’t drag yourself here.”
She exhaled slightly. “Okay. Small relief.”
Then she quickly added, “But I still slept beside you.”
Anthony looked at her—quiet, thoughtful.
“And I slept.”
She stopped. “You slept?”
“Yes. Peacefully.”
“Yes.”
Ma’s expression changed from panic to curiosity.
“Again?”
He nodded slowly. “Again.”
Silence filled the room.
But this silence was different.
Heavy. Emotional. Real.
Anthony looked at her deeply.
“Ma.”
She looked up. “Yes, sir?”
“For five years, I couldn’t sleep.”
Her heart skipped.
“But with you…” He paused. His voice was softer now. “I sleep.”
Ma did not joke.
Did not interrupt.
Did not run.
She just listened.
Because for the first time, she understood.
This was not about food, or work, or coincidence.
This was something else.
Something deeper.
“Sir… I think I should go and work.”
“No.”
She blinked. “No?”
