The Test

[ALESSIA'S POV]

The waiting room is too quiet.

Jeffrey sits beside me, holding my hand. His thumb moves in circles over my knuckles. He's been doing it for an hour.

Davison is upstairs. Sedated. They had to sedate him for the bone marrow biopsy.

I keep seeing his face when they wheeled him away. Scared. Confused.

"Mom, will it hurt?"

"No, baby. You'll be asleep."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

I lied. I don't know if it hurt. I don't know anything anymore.

The door opens.

Dr. Martinez walks in. He's carrying a folder.

I stand up too fast. Jeffrey steadies me.

"Is he okay?" I ask.

"Davison came through the procedure fine. He's in recovery now. You can see him in about twenty minutes."

"And the results?"

Dr. Martinez sits down. We sit too.

He opens the folder. "The biopsy confirmed what we suspected. Davison has acute lymphoblastic leukemia. ALL."

The words sound foreign. Wrong.

"Leukemia," I repeat.

"Yes. It's a type of blood cancer that affects the bone marrow and blood cells."

Jeffrey's grip on my hand tightens. "What's the treatment?"

"Chemotherapy. Radiation. But given his age and the stage we caught it at, his best chance is a bone marrow transplant."

"From who?" I ask.

"Ideally, a family member. A sibling is the best match. But since Davison is an only child, we'll test you first. Then any other biological relatives."

I nod. "Test me now."

"Alessia—" Jeffrey starts.

"Now," I say again. "Please."

Dr. Martinez nods. "Follow me."

The test is simple.

A nurse swabs the inside of my cheek. That's it.

"How long until we know?" I ask.

"A few days. Maybe a week."

A week feels like forever.

Jeffrey and I go upstairs to see Davison.

He's awake. Groggy. There's a bandage on his hip where they took the sample.

"Hey, baby." I sit on the edge of his bed. "How do you feel?"

"Tired." His voice is small. "When can I go home?"

"Soon. We just need to make sure you're okay first."

"Am I sick?"

I look at Jeffrey. He nods.

"Yes, baby. You're sick. But we're going to make you better."

"How?"

"The doctors are going to give you medicine. Special medicine that will fight the bad stuff in your body."

"Will it hurt?"

I want to lie. Want to tell him everything will be easy.

But I can't.

"Sometimes. But Dad and I will be with you the whole time."

Davison looks at Jeffrey. "You'll stay?"

"Every single day," Jeffrey says. "I'm not going anywhere."

Davison's eyes close. "Okay."

Within minutes, he's asleep again.

We sit there, watching him breathe.

"He's going to hate us," I whisper.

"He's going to survive," Jeffrey says. "That's all that matters."

Five days later, Dr. Martinez calls.

I'm at work. Trying to focus on a script about city council budget cuts. The words blur together.

My phone rings.

"Mrs. Walker, this is Dr. Martinez. Do you have a moment?"

"Yes." I step into an empty office. "Did you get the results?"

"I did. I'm sorry, Alessia. You're not a match."

The room tilts.

"What do you mean I'm not a match? I'm his mother."

"Being a parent doesn't guarantee compatibility. The markers we look for are more complex than basic DNA."

"Then test me again."

"That won't change anything."

I press my hand against the wall. "So what do we do now?"

"We test other biological relatives. Grandparents. Aunts. Uncles."

"Okay I will bring my mother but I don't have siblings. And Davison's father..." I stop.

"His biological father," Dr. Martinez says carefully. "We need to test him."

"No."

"Alessia—"

"I said no."

"This is your son's life."

"I know that!" My voice is too loud. "I know that. But you don't understand. His father walked away. He doesn't get to come back now."

"He might be Davison's only chance."

The words hang in the air.

I close my eyes. "How long do we have?"

"To find a match? A few months. Maybe less. The leukemia is aggressive. Without a transplant, the chemotherapy will only buy us time."

"And if we can't find a match?"

He doesn't answer right away.

That tells me everything.

"Call him," Dr. Martinez says quietly. "At least give Davison the chance."

I hang up.

Stand there in the empty office, staring at nothing.

Then I pull up my contacts.

Edward's number is still there. I never deleted it.

I stare at his name for a long time.

Five years. Five years of peace. Five years of building a life without him.

And now I have to let him back in.

My finger hovers over the call button.

Davison's face flashes in my mind. Pale. Tired. Scared.

I press call.

It rings once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then: "Hello?"

His voice. After all this time.

"Edward," I say. "It's Alessia."

Silence.

"I need your help."