Paula’s instincts honed by years of intuitive observation and deep-rooted wisdom, urged her to act. She knew she had to tread carefully; the household was ruled by fear of repercussions rather than hope for solutions. But the boy’s silent plea pierced through her hesitations. Felix was suffering, and no one seemed willing to step beyond the boundaries drawn by conventional medicine and rigid house rules.
Later that evening, when the house was shrouded in its usual sterile silence, Paula made her move. She entered Felix’s room with a confidence she hadn’t felt before. With gentle determination, she approached the bed where Felix lay, his features twisted in discomfort even in his sleep. She noticed the slight tremor in his hands and the furrow of his brow, signs of his relentless torment.
Paula’s gaze was drawn to the crown of Felix’s head, the spot he had unknowingly pointed her toward. She sucked in a breath as she reached out, feeling the warmth of life beneath her fingertips. Under the guise of adjusting his pillow, Paula deftly examined his scalp. Her heart raced as she felt something unusual—a small, hard object embedded under the skin, something that no scan or test had detected.
