The night before the appointment stretches long.
The quiet apartment feels even smaller now, as if the walls are closing in.
I check on my son again, watching the rise and fall of his chest.
In sleep, he seems so peaceful, yet the red patch on his scalp tells a different story.
My mind wanders to all the possible outcomes, the scenarios I’ve run through a hundred times.
What if it’s nothing?
What if it’s everything?
“Mom?”
His voice pulls me back, soft and questioning.
“Yeah, honey?”
“Is it gonna be okay?”
I hesitate, the truth tangled with my own fears.
“We’ll find out tomorrow, okay?”
He nods, accepting this small comfort.
His eyes close again, trusting in my promise of answers.
The night presses on, each hour blending into the next.
I lie awake, counting the breaths of my sleeping family.
And then it’s morning.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
