“The doctors say the treatment is working.”
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
Then we both began crying.
The news did not erase everything Lily had endured. It did not guarantee that the road ahead would be easy. More appointments, treatments, and difficult days still waited for her.
But it gave us hope.
That evening, Diane came to my house.
We sat on the porch with cups of tea while the sun lowered behind the trees.
For the first time in months, we talked without constantly checking our phones.
Aaron’s hair had begun growing back in soft, dark patches.
Lily’s had started returning too.
“She says Aaron’s hair looks like a fuzzy tennis ball,” Diane told me.
I laughed.
“He complains about it every morning.”
For a while, we watched the sky turn gold and pale pink.
Then Diane said, “I’m sorry about the way I spoke to you that day.”
