Chapter 4

The three-month promise arrived, just as promised. I took the day off work. Mom seemed to know what today was about, too.

She woke up early and slipped into her favorite floral blouse. She looked so much better than she did three months ago, and there was a brightness in her eyes that hadn't been there for ages.

"Mom, you ready?" I asked, standing by the door.

She nodded, took a deep breath as if steeling herself for something difficult. "Let's go."

We barely spoke on the way to the hospital. My stomach was in knots, hope and fear tangled together. I had no clue what the hospital's fancy machines would say about Mom's battle with steamed apples.

When we got to the hospital, the lobby was packed, and the air was thick with the smell of disinfectant. Mom instinctively gripped my arm, her hand icy cold.

I patted her hand and whispered, "Mom, don't be scared. I'm right here with you."

By the time we finished registering, waiting in line, and getting all the tests done, it was already noon. We sat together on a long bench in the hallway, waiting for those last few crucial blood test results.

All around us, patients and their families shuffled past, faces etched with worry and exhaustion. Mom looked pretty calm, only glancing toward the lab every now and then.

"Sophia? Selena? What are you two doing here?" A sharp, familiar voice called out.

I looked up and saw Linda, her face perfectly made up. Next to her was a man who looked polished and respectable, who had to be her husband.

"Aunt Linda," I said, standing up and greeting her politely.

"Well, look who showed up. So you finally figured it out and came to the hospital?" Linda's gaze swept over Mom with obvious disdain.

"Didn't I warn you about messing with all those weird remedies? Feeling sick now, huh? Guess you finally realized you need real medical help." Her words jabbed at me.

Mom didn't respond. She turned her face away, refusing to engage.

"I'm here with my husband for his follow-up, and we're seeing Professor Miles," Linda said, chin raised, making sure everyone heard the name. "What about you two? Which department are you in, the basic clinic, right?"

She glanced at our registration slips, a faint smirk curling her lips. "Want me to mention you to Professor Miles? Maybe he can squeeze you in, though his schedule's packed. People like you, without an appointment, probably won't get a shot."

That smug look on her face made my blood boil. "No thanks, Aunt Linda. We're here for a regular check-up," I answered.

"A regular check-up? I doubt it's that simple," Linda sneered. "Sophia, listen, if you're sick, you need real treatment. Don't try to hide it, and stop believing in those weird folk remedies.

"In the end, you're only hurting yourself." She launched into her usual spiel about proper science.

Then, Mom's name popped up on the call screen. "Mom, it's our turn," I said, helping her to her feet. I didn't want to waste another second on Linda.

We stepped into the exam room. The doctor was a young guy named Henry Warren, wearing black-rimmed glasses and looking pretty serious. He took our test results and started flipping through them.

"Blood pressure's normal, EKG looks good, and the ultrasound shows the liver looks full and the echo is nice and even," Henry murmured as he read.

My heart was pounding. The ultrasound came back clean? No way. The old chart had severe cirrhosis written in big, bold letters.

"Dr. Warren, could the ultrasound be wrong?" I blurted out.

Henry glanced up at me, ading his glasses. "The ultrasound was done by our department head himself. No mistake. Your liver looks totally fine."

He paused, then added, "But your blood test results aren't in yet, especially the tumor markers and liver function. Those are what really matter. Hang tight for a bit." His tone was calm, like this was another day at the office.

We went back out to the hallway to wait some more. The ultrasound results were like a jolt of hope. Suddenly, I felt optimistic, but mostly confused. Could it really be the steamed apples that made the difference?

After about half an hour, my phone finally pinged with a notification from the hospital app. The lab results were ready. I took a deep breath and tapped open the report.

It read: [AFP (alpha-fetoprotein): negative, right in the normal range. Every liver function marker was normal, all green, not a single warning sign.]

I handed the phone to Mom. She stared at those green numbers, and all the tension she'd been holding onto seemed to melt away in an instant. Her eyes grew misty, and she clutched my hand, her fingers trembling.

We went back into Henry's office. "Dr. Warren, the results are all in," I said, handing him my phone.

Henry took the phone, scrolled through the results, and glanced at the numbers. His expression stayed calm, like this was another routine check-up.

"Everything looks great. All your markers are normal. You're in excellent health," he said, handing the phone back. "Keep up your good habits. If there's nothing else—"

"Dr. Warren," I cut him off. I pulled out the envelope with the old records from my bag. "Could you take a look at this?" I slid Mom's medical records and test results from a year ago across the desk to him.

Henry froze for a moment, looking puzzled as he picked up the yellowed report. He glanced at it casually at first, but then his gaze froze on the page. His face went from calm to confused to stunned.

He picked up the old CT scan, then grabbed today's ultrasound report, comparing them over and over. He pulled up Mom's blood test results on his computer and matched them against the alarming numbers from the old report on my phone.

The room was eerily silent, broken only by Henry's breathing, which grew faster and faster.

He aded his glasses, his eyes wide with disbelief behind the lenses. He looked up at Mom, staring at her as if she were some kind of medical miracle.

"This can't be," he muttered. "Absolutely impossible." His voice rose, trembling with shock. "A year ago, your AFP levels were sky-high, severe cirrhosis, diagnosed as early-stage liver cancer.

"And now, all your indicators are normal, your liver appears completely healthy." He was utterly speechless, his hands trembling as he held both reports.

"Mrs. Hendrix," Henry stood up, leaning forward, eyes fixed on Mom, his voice strained with disbelief. "What exactly did you do this past year? Did you get a transplant somewhere, or take some top-tier targeted meds?"

Mom shook her head. "I didn't do anything," she said calmly.

"Then how are these results even possible?" Henry was completely at a loss.

I looked at Henry, still stunned, then at Mom, who sat there calm as ever. Our three-month promise, Mom had won it. She won so completely, so astonishingly. It left everyone speechless.

Just then, the exam room door was pushed open. Linda stuck her head in. "Sorry, Dr. Warren, I was wondering when Professor Miles's consultation will be?"

She stopped mid-sentence, staring at the bizarre scene before her. Henry stood there, completely stunned, while Mom sat across from him, looking regal and composed, like a queen.

"What's going on here?" Linda asked.