LANAWhen I saw her asleep, I knew she wouldn’t be able to eat, so I quietly entered the room and returned with a duvet, covering her gently before eating her dinner myself.The next morning, I woke up and searched for my mother, finding her in the kitchen, beaming as she cooked.“Lana, good morning! You’re up! You must be hungry. Please wait at the dining table; I’ll have breakfast ready in a few minutes,” she called out, her voice cheerful.Watching her move around the kitchen, preparing breakfast, felt surreal. I had never imagined my mother would cook, and I honestly doubted she knew how. Could she really cook?I blinked and pinched myself, trying to shake off the disbelief. She noticed I hadn’t left and smiled warmly. “Lana, you don’t have to linger. I can handle the cooking and serving.”I nodded and turned to leave, but my heart felt heavy. I knew her too well; she was probably plotting something to be overly nice so early in the day.Lost in thought, I heard her call, “Lana, b
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