The silence in the room was almost absolute, broken only by the soft sound of the heart monitor beside the bed. Giulia slept deeply, her cheeks still flushed from the fever that came and went like an inconstant tide. I sat beside her, my small hand over hers. Miguel stood by the window, his arms crossed, his gaze lost in the darkness of the night.
"They went to the hotel," he said softly, as if any louder sound might wake her. "They'll be back early tomorrow. They wanted to see her before the tests."
I nodded. I didn't say anything. There was a heavy feeling in my chest, a mix of pain and fear. The conversation with the doctors, the name of the disease, the words still echoing in my mind: long treatment, chemotherapy, possible extended hospitalization. And now came the hardest part. Tell
