"It depends on how the illness progresses and whether the child responds to the medication, ma'am…"Truthfully, Anwen didn't know how to answer properly. She didn't fully understand it herself, she only knew that… people with cancer often leave very quickly.
One year… can be the distance between life and death.
Hearing Anwen's reply, the woman fell silent. She lifted her head. Only now did Anwen see her raise it; her eyes were red and swollen, and she spoke in a choked voice:
"Sometimes I still can't believe this has happened to my family. Liora is only seven years old, how could Heaven be so cruel to her? Why didn't Heaven take me instead? I already have gray hair, why take my child? Why bring her into this world only to give her such a short life?"
Her face tightened and twisted, wracked with pain and helpless exhaustion. She pressed a hand to her chest, unable to stop sobbing.
"Last November, her fever wouldn't go down, so I took her to the children's hospital. That's when they found out she has leukemia. She's just like other children her age so why does my child have to be the unlucky one? My family isn't well-off. Even if we sell our house and land, it still wouldn't be enough to treat her."
The woman was distraught choking, suffering. Anwen, too, could no longer hold back her tears. She looked at the woman through blurred vision. During her time here, Anwen had already felt the torment endured by cancer patients and their families. She didn't know what the days ahead would hold for Liora and her mother…
"I've begged Heaven with everything I have. I'd trade five years, ten years even my entire lifespan, if it meant my child could be healthy. My daughter is my most precious treasure, yet Heaven is cruel enough to take her away. If I lose her, how am I supposed to go on living?"
Bitter, searing tears rolled down the woman's face. Anwen quietly turned away to wipe her own tears. Her heart ached unbearably, no amount of crying could ever be enough for such suffering. It felt as if someone were crushing her heart, leaving her in pain and short of breath.
"I wanted to care for her, and one day have her care for me in return. I wanted to see her enter middle school, then high school, then university to see her marry and have children, so I could hold my grandchild. But that day has become a luxury now. I can't even dream of it anymore because once I do, I won't have the heart to wake up. And when I wake, my tears won't stop falling."
Anwen didn't know what she could do. Perhaps the only thing she could offer now was comfort. She gently wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders and spoke softly:
"Please stay strong. Liora needs you."
At that moment, the woman broke down, sobbing like a child. All the pain she had suppressed seemed to burst forth at Anwen's words. Hot tears streamed down her face, yet her heart felt unbearably cold. Each tear fell onto Anwen's hand, onto the cold, hard floor. But perhaps those tears were too small to move the world. Her pain flooded her face. She wiped her tears with her sleeve; her features crumpled, wrinkles folding in on one another, her thin shoulders heaving as her whole body trembled in grief.
Anwen's eyes grew wet, her nose stinging. She wiped her tears, only for more to fall. She felt a deep, choking bitterness. She wished… a miracle could happen.
The woman's crying echoed through the hospital. And yet, the surrounding silence made that crying feel unbearably lonely. It went on without end, as if searching for someone who might understand only to lose its way because there was no one. Perhaps this was the desolate loneliness so many people had to endure. Anwen edged closer and let the woman lean gently against her.
After sobbing for a long while, the woman finally spoke again, her voice hoarse:
"Thank you. You should go back to your shift now. I've already taken up too much of your time."
Anwen was quiet not because of the thanks, but for another reason. Then she spoke:
"Ma'am, since things are already like this, nothing is more precious than Liora's happiness and positivity during this time. It doesn't matter how long one lives, what matters is how much joy there is while living. Don't think of Heaven as taking Liora away from you. Perhaps Heaven just needs a reason to let her walk ahead of you a little sooner. Your bond as mother and daughter on earth may be short, but in heaven she will always be waiting for you. If Liora were healthy, perhaps you would leave first someday and wait for her somewhere far away. No one would ever have the heart to truly separate a family. Believe me, if Liora ever leaves you, it will only be temporary. You will be reunited again. So please gather your strength. Don't let her sense your exhaustion and sorrow. She's still small, she needs a childhood filled with laughter, not one overshadowed by thoughts of death, right?"
The tissue in the woman's hand was crumpled beyond use. Seeing this, Anwen quietly produced a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to her.
"Here... please take this."
The woman accepted it, her voice rough from crying.
"Thank you. Go back to your duties. I'll sit here a bit longer, then go back."
She probably needed some quiet time alone. Anwen nodded.
"Yes, ma'am."
She stood up, but didn't leave right away. After slipping into a blind spot, Anwen vanished, then returned, standing behind a pillar, silently watching the woman.
A while after Anwen left, the woman finally stood and went back. Only then did Anwen feel at ease enough to turn and leave the hospital.
...
In the days that followed, Liora's presence made the area around Rowan's bed far less bleak.The girl was lively, talkative, and loved to laugh. She adored drawing and often clung to Rowan, asking him to teach her this or that. But a few days later, after her first rounds of chemotherapy, the side effects began. Prolonged fevers left her unable to eat; sores formed in her mouth. She began losing weight. Once a plump, fair-skinned child, Liora grew thin and pale. As the youngest patient in the room, everyone doted on her especially Anwen and Rowan.
Then came the most dreadful part of chemotherapy: hair loss. Every day, Anwen would brush Liora's hair, braiding it however the girl liked. But day after day, each time Anwen opened her palm after brushing, it was filled with hair; strands clung to the comb. Anwen could only hide it quietly as Liora's hair thinned more and more.
One day, during a check-up, the doctor said,"It would be better for the child's hair to be shaved. It'll make chemotherapy and hygiene easier."
Anwen and Rowan exchanged glances heavy with sadness.
Of course, Liora refused. She wouldn't let her mother touch her hair.
That afternoon, both Rowan and Anwen went to Liora's bedside.The girl lay facing the wall, sulking, refusing to speak.
"Liora…"
Knowing why they had come, she didn't answer.
"I won't shave my head. It's ugly. I won't look like a girl anymore."She burst into tears, and her mother beside her secretly wiped her own eyes.
Anwen reminded herself not to cry. She placed a hand on Liora's head.
"Who says you wouldn't look like a girl? You're my princess, you're always the most beautiful. But you're sick right now, so you have to listen to the doctor, okay? When you get better, we'll grow your hair long again and try lots of styles…"
At that point, Anwen's voice broke. She covered her face, unable to hold back her tears. No matter how hard she tried, the sorrow stuck in her throat. All she wanted was to hold the girl and cry.
Seeing this, Rowan continued gently:
"Be good, Liora. Let's listen to the doctor, okay? How could shaving your head be ugly? There have been many long-haired princesses but now you'll be the only one like this. You won't be like anyone else, and no one will be like you. You'll be the most special princess in the world."
Liora kept crying.
"I don't want to. I don't want to shave my head. You're lying, my hair won't grow back. I'll die."
Those three words I'll die spoken by a child, felt like a stone hanging over everyone's heart. Rowan's eyes reddened.
Just then, a voice called out,"Liora!"
A large man appeared at the doorway. Hearing him, Liora turned and cried out:
"Dad!"
It was her father.
He rushed over and hugged her tightly. Liora cried even harder.
"Dad, I don't want to shave my head. I don't want to be ugly."
He patted her gently.
"I'll shave mine with you. Then we'll have matching head, okay?"
Liora buried her face in his chest, her crying softening into sniffles. After a while, she asked quietly:
"Aren't you afraid of looking ugly?"
"Oh please. Having the same haircut as my daughter is the best hairstyle I've ever had."
She was silent for a moment longer, then whispered:
"Then… I'll shave it. But I want Sister Anwen to do it."
Anwen answered immediately:
"Of course. Of course."
They brought over a plastic chair and sat Liora down. With no proper barber's cape, her father took off his shirt to wrap around her shoulders. But when Anwen held the clippers, she realized a problem.
She didn't know how to use them.
Flustered, she tugged lightly at Rowan's sleeve and whispered:
"I don't know how to use clippers."
Rowan suddenly laughed. Anwen's face flushed with embarrassment, but there was no other choice. Rowan stepped closer, placing his hand over hers to guide her. Anwen startled but the warmth of his hand made her heart skip.
Her mind went blank until the clippers buzzed to life.
Locks of Liora's hair fell. At the second pass, the girl whimpered and cried again.Everyone's heart ached.
Her mother turned away to wipe her tears; her father's eyes reddened as well. Even a man who rarely cried couldn't hold back his tears for his child.
In the days that followed, the chemotherapy left Liora extremely weak. She no longer spoke or smiled, curling up on her hospital bed. She became too frail to walk; whenever she went for treatment, her father had to carry her.
Anwen and Rowan followed behind, watching the father carry his daughter hearts heavy with sorrow.
December passed like melting snow, disappearing faster than one could imagine. And for those with cancer, time seemed to move even faster. Before long, Liora's first chemotherapy cycle ended. Her condition stabilized, and the doctors allowed her to go home for the New Year.
On the day of farewell, Rowan gave her a drawing, a princess with long, flowing hair. Liora loved it, hugging it tightly, grinning from ear to ear.
Liora went home. Rowan stayed behind for further observation, to determine whether he could be discharged.
As the year's end approached, Anwen grew busier than ever. The closer the New Year came, the more animal souls she had to guide.
One night, while on duty, Anwen felt restless and uneasy. A bad feeling gripped her something might have happened to Rowan. She rushed through her task and returned to the hospital, only to find his bed empty. Panic surged. She grabbed a nurse and learned he was in the emergency room.
Her face went pale. She hurried there, pacing outside like an ant on a hot pan. The moment the doors opened, she rushed in.
"Rowan!"
He was awake, lying on the bed, wires and tubes everywhere. His face was far paler than when Anwen had last seen him.
Tears welled in Anwen's eyes as she grasped his hand. The cold of his skin startled her.
"You scared me so much. I thought that…"She bit her lip, unable to finish, clutching his hand tightly still trembling with fear.
Rowan looked at her and smiled weakly. His eyes shimmered with tears, the corners red.
Suddenly, Anwen remembered what she had told Liora's mother, that Heaven never truly separates anyone, that a child only walks ahead by one step. Yet no one ever wants that. Time itself is the greatest torment for humans. If accepting loss were so easy, why would people fight so desperately to hold on to life?
With each passing day, Anwen felt the fear of losing Rowan sink deeper into her heart.