Chapter 4

The photographer asked the four of us to move closer together. Mom and Dad sat in the middle, with Cedric standing behind Dad. Mom waved me over. "Celine, come stand next to me."

For the first time in my life, I had a place right in the center of our family portrait.

Growing up, I'd always been pushed to the edge whenever we took family pictures. Mom used to say that since I was adopted, putting me in the center would raise awkward questions from our relatives.

As the camera flashed, Mom gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Come on, sweetheart. Give us a smile."

I did my best to smile, but the photographer lowered his camera. "She looks awfully pale. Maybe we should take a break?"

Mom took out her lipstick and dabbed a little color onto my lips. "Well, she's had a rough few years. Of course she's looking a little worse for wear. Once we're done here, I'll take her for a full checkup and make sure she gets back to her old self."

Dad chuckled. "There's no rush. We'll have plenty of time to get her healthy again."

All the time in the world.

I found myself repeating those words in my head. Somehow, they sounded wonderful.

But halfway through the photo session, my vision began to darken. I dug my nails into my palm, relying on the pain to keep myself conscious.

Cedric leaned toward me and lowered his voice. "Celine, are you still mad at Mom and Dad? You know they only did all this because they wanted what's best for you."

I turned to look at him. "Why didn't you tell them when I was hospitalized?"

He looked away. "Mom said we only had another six months to go before the test was over. Besides, the doctors managed to save you, didn't they?"

So that was how they saw it. As long as I hadn't actually died, there'd never been any real danger. I didn't bother asking anything else.

Once the photographer had taken the last picture, I made my way upstairs, holding on to the banister for support.

Mom called after me. "Celine! We haven't even cut the cake yet. Where are you going?"

"I just need to get something."

The notice from the hospital was hidden in the sleeve of the old jacket I'd left upstairs. I wanted to show it to Mom.

The test was over now. Surely that meant I didn't have to keep suffering through everything alone. But the moment I stepped into my bedroom, what little strength I had left gave out.

As I reached into the jacket's sleeve, the report slipped out. I bent down to pick it up, only to collapse onto the carpet.

Downstairs, the cheerful sound of them singing "Happy Birthday" drifted up to my room.

Mom was teaching Cedric the part I'd loved singing most when I was little. She got the words wrong and burst out laughing at herself.

I lay there listening as my vision slowly blurred.

Even after four years, Mom's laugh hadn't changed a bit.

I wanted to call out to her. But there was a crushing weight on my chest, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make a sound.

I had no idea how much time had passed before the bedroom door finally opened.

Mom came in carrying a slice of cake. "Celine, sweetheart, are you still upset? Everyone's waiting for you downstairs. Why are you—"

Her voice trailed off. The plate slipped from her hands, sending the cake crashing to the floor. Frosting splattered onto the back of my hand, but I couldn't feel a thing.

Mom dropped to her knees and frantically pulled me into her arms. "Celine?"

Just then, my phone started ringing in my pocket. With trembling hands, she answered it.

A doctor's frantic voice came through. "Hello? Am I speaking to a family member of Celine Vossmere? We've been trying to reach her for three days! Her heart could stop at any moment! She needs to get to a hospital immediately!"