The morning started earlier than usual. The hospital still seemed asleep when we got into the elevator with Giulia in Miguel's arms, wrapped in a pink blanket she had chosen herself. Her round cheeks were pale, but her eyes… oh, her eyes still sparkled with her usual curiosity. As if she weren't about to face something no child should ever know so soon.
I walked beside Miguel, trying to hide my trembling hand in my coat pocket. On the outside, silence. On the inside, chaos.
The pediatric oncology wing was different from anything I had ever seen. The hallways had drawings on the walls: smiling lions, astronauts floating on colorful planets, unicorns with wings. All very beautiful. Very thoughtful. Very painful. Because that's exactly what they were trying to do there — disguise the horror
