The worst part wasn't even the diagnosis. It was watching Mom try to hold it together in that sterile hospital room, pretending she wasn't scared out of her mind.
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"Stage two," Dr. Snow had said, like she was commenting on the weather. Just another Tuesday for her, I guess. But for us? Our whole world flipped upside down in those two words.
I found Mom later in the hospital chapel. Not praying - just sitting there, staring at nothing. The wooden pew creaked as I sat next to her.
"Hey." My voice came out all scratchy.
"Mmm." She didn't look at me.
"Remember when I was like, eight, and I broke my arm falling off that stupid swing set?" I asked. "And you were so mad because you'd told me like fifty times not to jump off?"
That got a tiny smile. "You were always so stubborn."
"Yeah well, I got that from you." I bumped her shoulder with mine. "You told me later that you weren't actually mad - you were just scared seeing me hurt."
"Mina-" Her voice cracked.
"My point is... it's okay to be scared, Mom. You don't have to pretend you're fine. Not with me."
She tried to say something but it came out as this choked sound instead. I pulled her into a hug and she just... crumbled. Like all the strength she'd been holding onto just gave out.
"We're gonna get through this," I whispered, feeling her shoulders shake. "You and me - we're stubborn like that, remember?"
We sat there for a long time, my mom crying into my shoulder while I held on tight. Weird how sometimes the strongest thing you can do is just... let yourself break for a bit.
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