Adam, who had been silent up until now, stepped forward, his voice controlled but tense. "Tell the truth, Simon."
Simon exhaled slowly, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can’t say for certain until we have the test results."
"But you suspect sothing," Adam pressed. "What is it?"
Simon looked between the worried parents, his lips pressing into a firm line.
"There are a few possibilities, so more concerning than others. It could be an inflad lymph node, a benign cyst, or sothing gastrointestinal."
Mary swallowed. "And the worst-case scenario?"
Simon’s silence was answer enough.
Mary felt her knees weaken, and Adam quickly steadied her. "Breathe," he murmured.
Simon placed a reassuring hand on Mary’s shoulder.
"I’m not saying it’s the worst-case scenario. But given her symptoms, I don’t want to take any risks. The tests will give us clarity."
Mary nodded slowly, though fear still lingered in her eyes.
Aurora, who had been observing quietly, finally spoke. "So what do we do now?"
"We get the tests done as soon as possible," Simon said firmly. "No delays."
Adam t Simon’s gaze, his voice resolute. "Then we’ll go today."
Simon nodded, scribbling a few additional notes. "I’ll arrange for the necessary scans at the hospital. In the anti, make sure she stays hydrated and avoids any heavy als."
Mary reached for Aurora’s hand, squeezing it tightly. "We’ll get through this," she whispered.
Aurora offered a small smile.
As soon as the doctor, Mary, and Adam left, the small smile on Aurora’s face vanished.
She stared at the ceiling blankly before muttering,
"Not again...please...if the universe is hearing ...please give another illness...I already had a fair share of it before. I don’t want to be a burden on my parents anymore..."
By the evening all the tests were done.
Aurora wasn’t concerned about the result, she was more concerned about the money spent by her father for the tests.
She had stealthily seen the dical bill and her heart nearly stopped beating $10,052.
This was the pri reason why she hated the hospital.
They were too costly...so costly that Aurora’s heart ached.
The results ca out the next morning.
When Simon saw the results, his expression slowly worsened.
Simon’s eyes flickered across the dical report, his normally composed expression darkening with each passing second.
His grip on the paper tightened slightly before he exhaled, setting the file down on the table with careful deliberation.
Adam and Mary sat across from him in tense silence, their fingers interlocked as if bracing themselves for a verdict neither of them wanted to hear.
Aurora, though seated beside her mother, remained unnervingly still, her gaze focused on the doctor’s face rather than the report itself.
Finally, Simon spoke, his voice asured but undeniably grave.
"Aurora has Wilms tumor."
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Mary’s breath hitched, and she instinctively pulled Aurora closer, her hands trembling slightly.
"A tumor?" she whispered, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.
Simon nodded.
"Wilms tumor is a rare kidney cancer that primarily affects children. It typically originates in one kidney, though in so cases, both can be involved."
Adam leaned forward, his jaw clenched. "How advanced is it?"
Simon hesitated for a mont before replying,
"From the scans, it appears localized, but we need further testing to determine if there has been any tastasis."
Mary’s grip on Aurora tightened, as though afraid her daughter would slip away if she let go. "Is it treatable?"
"Yes." Simon’s voice held firm reassurance.
"Wilms tumor has a high survival rate, especially if caught early. Treatnt typically involves surgery to remove the affected kidney, followed by chemotherapy and, in so cases, radiation."
Aurora, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, finally spoke, her voice oddly detached.
"So you’re saying I need surgery?"
Simon t her gaze. "Yes."
A long silence stretched between them before Aurora exhaled softly.
"Alright."
Mary turned to her daughter, eyes filled with anguish. "Aurora—"
"I’m fine, Mom," Aurora interrupted gently, though the tightness in her voice betrayed her.
"At least it’s not so unknown disease, right?" She forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
Adam rubbed a hand over his face, his exhaustion evident. "What’s the next step?"
Simon straightened.
"We’ll schedule an imdiate biopsy to confirm the tumor’s nature, though Wilms tumors are almost always malignant. After that, I’ll coordinate with a pediatric oncologist to devise the best treatnt plan."
Mary nodded stiffly, her mind still reeling.
"How soon can the surgery be scheduled?"
"As soon as possible," Simon assured them.
"Ti is a crucial factor. If we act quickly, we can minimize complications and ensure the best possible outco."
Adam exhaled sharply and turned to his daughter.
"Aurora, if you feel scared, you can tell us. You don’t have to put on a brave face."
Aurora blinked, then let out a quiet chuckle.
"Scared?" She tilted her head. "I think I passed that stage a long ti ago."
Mary’s heart clenched at the words.
Simon sighed, standing up.
"For now, I advise you to rest. We’ll handle the logistics. I’ll inform you as soon as we have a surgery date."
As he turned to leave, Adam stood and clasped his shoulder. "Thank you, Simon."
Simon gave him a firm nod. "We’ll get through this."
As soon as the doctor exited the room, silence descended once more.
Aurora leaned back, staring at the ceiling, the sa empty expression returning to her face.
Mary reached for her hand. "Aurora..."
"Mom, I don’t want to be a burden," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mary’s chest tightened. "You are not a burden."
Aurora swallowed hard, eyes glistening but refusing to shed a tear.
"Ten thousand dollars, Mom. That’s how much the tests alone cost. The surgery will be more. The chemo... the follow-ups... How much will all of that be?"
Adam crouched beside her, his hands firm on her shoulders.
"Aurora, listen to . There is no price too high for your life. None."
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