"Oh, my dear son… how I missed you, so much." A tear rolled down her face as she moved closer and hugged him. "So long… you left me so long, and I… I couldn't tell you… how sorry I was… for causing you and your pa's pain..."
In all of his life, he had never once been called a son before, and though Rohan knew this wasn't real and that the woman was sick, he couldn't help the sharp prick in his chest that spread up into his throat when she cuddled his head, weeping and apologizing for hurting her son. In what way she had hurt the deceased, Rohan had no idea.
For how long in the past had he imagined being held like that by a mother and addressed as a son?
He couldn't remember, and thus he played his part as a son as naturally as if it were real. Slowly, he lifted his hand and hesitantly hugged the frail, small body of the woman, as though afraid she might break apart.
