Eventually she sent Della a single text: I’m sorry I called you a burden when I was the one living off Caleb’s work.

Della chose not to answer. Forgiveness doesn’t mean reopening the door to the people who broke your sense of safety; sometimes healing begins with a boundary that never gets crossed again.

One year after I came home, Della finished her last round of treatment. The oncologist confirmed there was no evidence of disease left in her body.

One sunny morning, standing at our bedroom mirror, she pulled off her scarf. A soft layer of dark, healthy hair had begun growing back across her scalp.

She ran her fingers through it and smiled, the old dimples returning.

“Look, Caleb,” she said. “It’s growing back.”