"Hey, how are you today?" Beatrice asked as soon as she walked into her mother's ward.
The lady looked up from the bed, much more accepting of her presence than Beatrice's last visit.
"I brought you cake," Beatrice said as she walked to her mother and placed it before her.
Whitney looked up, her eyes lit up with joy.
"Cake? Birthday?" She asked in her broken English.
Beatrice's eyes teared up a little when she looked at her mom like this, and she blinked quickly to shoo the tears.
She asked the nurse who had been attending to her mother for 15 years and learned that her mother was very good at painting and was actually a scholar.
That was the information they were provided with.
To see the woman who was supposed to be a lecturer at some prestigious university wasting away her life in a mental hospital, it ached Beatrice's heart, and she took a deep breath to control her emotions.
