Three days later, Maya sat beneath a thin hospital blanket while chemotherapy dripped slowly through the line in her arm.
She had brought a paperback book but hadn't turned a page.
Her phone lay beside her.
No new messages.
She checked the time.
10:14 a.m.
Her sister's wedding rehearsal was scheduled for that afternoon.
Maya had not been invited.
Her mother had explained that it would be “too emotional.”
Maya looked at the IV bag.
She wondered whether that meant too emotional for Elena or for everyone else.
A nurse named Grace adjusted the pump.
“First treatment?”
Maya nodded.
Grace smiled.
“You don't have to be brave every second.”
Maya looked at her.
“I don't know how else to do this.”
“Then learn.”
The simplicity of the answer stayed with her.
At lunchtime, her father finally called.
Maya answered.
“Dad.”
“How are you?”
She almost said fine.
Instead, she told the truth.
“I'm getting chemotherapy.”
There was a long pause.
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“You should have told me.”
“I did.”
Another silence.
Then her father said, “Your mother said you'd been exaggerating how serious it was.”
Maya closed her eyes.
“I haven't exaggerated anything.”
“I didn't mean—”
“You did.”
Her father's voice hardened.
“I'm dealing with the wedding.”
“I know.”
“Your sister needs us.”
“I know that too.”
“Then please don't make this harder than it already is.”
Maya stared at the ceiling.
There it was.
Not concern.
Not fear.
An inconvenience.
“Okay,” she said.
She ended the call.
Grace returned a few minutes later and found Maya crying silently.
She didn't ask questions.
She simply placed a box of tissues within reach.
That evening, Maya's body began to ache.
She drove home carefully and slept for almost fourteen hours.
The next morning, Elena called.
“I heard you started treatment.”
Maya sat upright.
“Who told you?”
“Dad.”
“What did he say?”
“That you're really sick.”
Maya swallowed.
“I am.”
Elena's voice became quieter.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“You said it was complicated.”
“Mom told me not to ruin your wedding.”
Elena went silent.
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
“I didn't know.”
“I believe you.”
Elena started crying.
“I want you there.”
Maya looked at the calendar.
“I don't think I can.”
“You're my sister.”
Maya pressed her fingers against her forehead.
“I know.”
“I'll come to you.”
“Your rehearsal is today.”
“I don't care.”
“Apparently everyone else does.”
Elena said nothing.
Then she whispered, “I'm sorry.”
Maya believed that too.
But apology wasn't the same as help.
The following week became a blur of appointments.
Blood tests.
Scans.
Medication.
Sleep.
Nausea.
Work emails answered from bed.
Bills placed in neat piles because looking at them was easier than opening them.
Her mother called twice.
Both conversations lasted less than five minutes.
Her father called once.
Elena called almost every night.
She was the only one who seemed willing to stay on the phone after Maya stopped talking.
The wedding arrived.
Maya watched part of the ceremony through photographs Elena sent.
Her sister looked radiant.
Their mother wore a pale blue dress.
Their father cried during the vows.
Maya stared at that photograph for a long time.
Her father could cry for his daughter getting married.
But he couldn't drive another twenty minutes to the hospital.
She shut off her phone.
That night, she vomited until there was nothing left in her stomach.
She crawled into bed and slept with a bowl beside her.
The next morning, someone knocked.
Maya opened the door expecting a delivery.
It was Elena.
She stood there holding two grocery bags.
“What are you doing here?”
“My honeymoon starts tomorrow.”
Maya blinked.
“You're supposed to be packing.”
“I packed.”
Elena walked inside.
She put soup, fruit, crackers, bottled water, and medicine on the counter.
Then she looked at her sister.
“You look terrible.”
Maya laughed weakly.
“Thank you.”
Elena hugged her.
Maya stiffened at first.
Then she let herself lean into the embrace.
“I should've come sooner,” Elena said.
“You didn't know.”
“I knew enough.”
Maya looked away.
For the first time since the diagnosis, she allowed herself to cry in someone's arms.
Elena stayed for three hours.
Before leaving, she said, “I'm going to talk to Mom and Dad.”
Maya shook her head.
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't want another argument.”
“They need to know what this is doing to you.”
“They know.”
Elena looked at her carefully.
“No. They know you're sick. That's different.”
After Elena left, Maya stood at the window.
A black SUV pulled into the parking lot.
Her father's car.
Maya's heart lifted before she could stop it.
The driver's door opened.
Her father stepped out.
He walked toward the building carrying nothing.
Maya waited.
He entered the lobby.
A minute later, there was another knock.
Maya opened the door.
Her father stood there.
He looked tired.
“I came to talk.”
Maya stepped aside.
He entered.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then he placed a folder on the table.
“What is that?”
“Your mother's financial paperwork.”
Maya stared at him.
“What does that have to do with me?”
He wouldn't meet her eyes.
“She wants you to sign something.”
Maya opened the folder.
The first page was a power-of-attorney form.
She looked up.
“Why?”
Her father's jaw tightened.
“Because if your condition gets worse, there could be complications.”
Maya's hands went cold.
“You want me to sign away control of my finances?”
“No.”
“That is exactly what this says.”
Her father finally looked at her.
“You're not thinking clearly.”
Maya closed the folder.
“I have cancer, Dad. I haven't lost my mind.”
He reached for the paperwork.
“This isn't what I came here to fight about.”
“No. You came here because Mom wants something.”
He didn't answer.
Maya understood.
She pushed the folder back toward him.
“Take it.”
Her father picked it up.
At the door, he paused.
“You'll regret making things difficult.”
Maya looked directly at him.
“I think I already know what I'll regret.”
He left.
Maya locked the door.
Then she called a lawyer.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: The Documents Her Father Wanted Signed Opened a Door Maya Had Never Considered, and Someone Had Been Quietly Moving Money Behind Her Back
The Call Came During the Toast, and by the Time She Answered, Her Family Had Already Made Their Choice
Part 2 of 20
