I chuckled inwardly, my expression carefully schoolboy-shy as I nodded, my cheeks flushed just enough to sell the act. Gabriela let out a soft, amused sigh, shaking her head. "You kid..." she murmured, her voice warm, almost maternal.
She settled onto the bed, her bathrobe parting slightly as she lay down, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that made my pulse spike.
I lay down beside her, both of us stretched out straight at first. But then I turned to face her, my gaze tracing the worry etched into her expression.
"Auntie," I said softly, my voice gentle, comforting, "don't worry about Brother Diaz. He'll be fine. He's a strong man."
Gabriela sighed, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears as she thought of her son. "I'm worried," she admitted, her voice trembling. "When Diaz wakes up... he won't be able to handle himself... seeing his condition... I... I..." Her voice cracked, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her robe.
