The house felt unusually silent the next morning. Sunlight crept across the kitchen floor, but no one spoke much. The air was heavy — filled with unspoken questions.
Suzanne's father, Daniel, sat at the dining table, staring into his untouched cup of coffee. He had been up since dawn, reading the same line of the newspaper over and over, though his mind was miles away.
Suzanne entered the room quietly. "Morning, Dad."
He looked up, forcing a smile. "Morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," she said softly, sitting beside him. "You don't have to worry so much."
Daniel sighed and reached for her hand. His palms were warm but trembling slightly. "That's what parents do, Suzanne. We worry — even when you tell us not to."
Her mother walked in, holding a folder of reports she'd brought home from the clinic. "The doctor said we'll need to start some more tests," she said, her voice steady but tired.
Suzanne could see the exhaustion behind her mother's eyes, and the fear behind her father's calm tone. For the first time, she realized how deeply her silence had hurt them.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have told you both."
Daniel reached across the table, squeezing her hand gently. "You're our little girl, Su. There's nothing you could ever face that we won't face with you."
---
Later that afternoon, Daniel drove Suzanne to the park — their favorite place when she was little. The air smelled of rain, and the clouds hung low, gray but gentle.
"Remember," he said, pointing to the old oak tree, "you once climbed halfway up that thing when you were seven. Scared the life out of me."
Suzanne giggled softly. "You told me I couldn't climb it, so I did."
He smiled — a real one this time. "You've always been like that. Brave. Stubborn."
Her laughter faded into a small silence. "Dad, are you scared?"
He looked at her for a long moment before answering. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "Terrified. But not of losing you — of you losing hope."
Suzzane's eyes filled with tears. "I won't. I promise."
Daniel nodded, his voice steady. "Then that's all that matters. Hope is the strongest medicine we have."
---
That evening, the family sat together for dinner — something they hadn't done in weeks. Liam chattered about school, their mother smiled softly, and Daniel listened quietly, his hand resting protectively over Suzanne's.
For a moment, it almost felt normal again.
When everyone went to bed, Daniel lingered in the living room, staring at the framed photo of Suzzane as a child, holding a paper star she'd made. He whispered, "You'll shine through this too, my little star."
Upstairs, Suzanne lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
The love in her family's eyes gave her strength — but the thought that her friends still didn't know filled her with unease.
Tomorrow, she would have to face school again…
and keep pretending that everything was okay.
---