"Thank you," the lady said in a loud trembling voice..
When Bruce turned, he saw tears streaming freely down her face now, no longer restrained by fear alone but by something closer to desperate gratitude.
"I don't… I don't know what you did. I don't understand any of it." She swallowed hard, clutching her daughter closer. "But if she can really heal from this… if she can live… then I swear I'll thank you properly. However you want. However long it takes."
As a mother, she could feel it. Her daughter's breathing, once frantic and uneven, had subtly smoothed out. It was faint, fragile, but no longer slipping away by the second. And yet… that alone wasn't enough to erase the fear gnawing at her heart. Until her child truly recovered, she couldn't be sure of anything.
Bruce studied her for a brief moment, then his expression softened. A small smile tugged at his lips, faint but genuine.
"If you want to thank me," he said calmly, "then I do need your help."
