By sixteen I was at the top of my class, aiming for a pre-med scholarship. Life was beautiful. It was safe.

Until a Tuesday afternoon in late October. I was at the kitchen table wrestling with calculus when Laura came in from work.

She didn’t greet me. Her face was the color of ash, her hands shaking as she set her purse on the counter.

“Mom?” I asked — the word still a precious gem on my tongue. “What’s wrong?”

She looked at me, and my world shattered again.

“Dr. Lawson called,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Your routine bloodwork came back. Emily… the leukemia. It’s back.”