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Camila, in her early fifties, was aware that many women her age experienced deteriorating eyesight, often resulting in the need for glasses or contact lenses.

However, she had never required visual aids before because her eyesight had always been excellent. Or at least, it used to be. Now, she couldn't be so certain.

The figure emerging from the car bore a striking resemblance to her deceased son, Jerald. Camila's mouth dropped open as she stared wide-eyed. "Oh my God..." she exclaimed, turning to her son, Jake, and gripping his arms. "I hate to admit it, but I think I finally need glasses..."

"No, mother, you don't need glasses. It's really Jay..." Jake reassured her gently.

Camila vigorously shook her head. "No... It can't be... Jerald, my son, is dead. Why are you playing this cruel game with me? Giving me false hope... It's not good for me, Jakey."

Tears welled up in her wide eyes as she beheld a sight she thought she would never see again until her own passing.

Jerald observed hi