I pulled a chair to the edge of the bed and took Sarah’s translucent hand in mine.

Her eyes fluttered open.

“Mom,” she whispered, her voice barely a rasp. “I’m so sorry.”

“No,” I said fiercely, kissing her knuckles. “Do not apologize to me. Not for a single second.”

Tears slid down her sunken cheeks, soaking into her pillow. “I should have called you months ago. I was just… I was so ashamed.”

“Why didn’t you?” I pleaded gently.

She stared at the ceiling for a long time, gathering the strength to speak. “Because Greg kept telling me I was making everything harder. He said if I got you involved, you’d only worry, and you’d hate him, and it would make my treatment messier.