Noah
She reached into the bag, helping me set the containers out on the counter.
"He has that terrible habit of overworking himself until he drops. He doesn't take care of his health, he doesn't eat properly, and that's exactly why he ended up as a patient in the very hospital where he works. The doctors told him his exhaustion was dangerous." She paused, her fingers lingering on the edge of a container filled with radish kimchi. "I made a large batch for him this week. I made extra."
I stared at the containers lined up on the counter. "Oh," I said quietly. Then, forcing my voice to sound warm, I added, "Thank you, Mom."
But what I didn't say out loud was that I could see exactly what these were. The containers weren't identical; they were smaller, mismatched pieces, the leftovers from the massive batch she had cooked specifically for Nick.
