My husband and my sister laughed while my daughter Holly was dying in a hospital bed. Then he smirked and said, “Holly had a good run. We need that money for my son with your sister.” I slapped him across the face and made one phone call that destroyed them both.

“No detectable cancer cells.”

Dr. Aris said the words, but my brain refused to process them for a full ten seconds. I stared at him, my hands trembling. “What?”

“She’s in remission, Elena,” Dr. Aris smiled, closing the chart. “The trial was a massive success. She’s going to need monitoring, and her immune system will take a while to fully rebuild, but… she’s going to live. She’s going to grow up.”

I collapsed into the chair, sobbing uncontrollably. It wasn't the quiet, terrified crying I had done in the dark for a year. It was a violent, beautiful release of every ounce of fear, anger, and grief I had carried.

Lily walked over, dragging Professor Paws behind her, and wrapped her small arms around my neck.