Meredith's sister

45

Mia's POV

The days had become harder to tell apart. My body, once a vessel of strength and energy, had turned against me. The chemo treatments had started to take their toll, and each round left me weaker than the last. The nausea was relentless, the fatigue unbearable, and the pain—sometimes it felt like my body was made of glass, fragile and breaking in places I couldn't reach.

Teddy stayed with me as much as she could, but even she was starting to feel the strain. I could see it in the way she looked at me—her smile no longer as bright, her eyes holding a tiredness that mirrored my own. She was doing everything she could to hold us all together, but I could feel the distance growing between us, the unspoken fear that neither of us knew how to face.

Maggie and Meredith were doing their best too. Meredith kept trying to find the best treatments, the latest options, but I could see in her eyes that she was starting to lose hope. I wasn't improving. I was deteriorating, and no one knew how to stop it.

It was a quiet Tuesday when the reality of it all hit me full force. I had woken up feeling more sluggish than usual, my body refusing to cooperate. The stairs felt like mountains to climb, each step an effort. By the time I reached the kitchen, I was gasping for breath, my chest tight. Teddy found me there, leaning against the counter, eyes closed, trying to steady myself.

"Mia?" Her voice was gentle, but there was a note of panic underneath it. She rushed over, steadying me as I swayed slightly. "What's wrong? How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," I lied, trying to pull away from her hands. "Just a little dizzy, that's all."

Her eyes searched mine, looking for the truth. She didn't find it.

"You're not okay," she said softly, her fingers brushing the hair from my face. "We need to get you back to bed."

"I don't need to go back to bed, Teddy," I protested weakly, but I couldn't make my legs cooperate. My body felt like it was made of lead, heavy and unwilling to follow my commands.

"Mia," she said firmly, lifting me gently into her arms. "You're not going to fight me on this. You're going to rest."

I allowed her to guide me back to the bedroom. She tucked me in, brushing my damp hair away from my forehead as she kissed my temple.

"You need to rest," she repeated. "I'm going to make you some tea. Just stay here."

I nodded, but as soon as she left the room, I couldn't help but feel the weight of it all. I was slipping. No matter how hard I fought, my body was getting weaker. The treatments weren't working the way we'd hoped. The cancer had spread too far. I couldn't deny it anymore.

Later that day, after hours of sleep, I woke to find Maggie sitting at the edge of my bed, her expression somber. Her dark eyes searched mine, and she smiled softly when I stirred, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice gentle but carrying a weight of its own.

"Like I've been run over by a truck," I said, forcing a smile, though it didn't feel like it reached my face. "I think the chemo's finally catching up to me."

Maggie nodded, her hands folding in her lap. "It's going to get harder before it gets easier. But we're going to keep fighting, Mia. I'm not giving up on you."

I closed my eyes, leaning back against the pillows. I didn't want to fight anymore. I didn't want to keep pretending that I could beat this. But I didn't say it out loud. I couldn't. Not to her, not to anyone.

"You have to," I whispered, my voice so small. "For Allison. For Teddy."

Maggie's expression softened, and she reached out to take my hand, squeezing it gently. "We will. All of us. For you."

The next few days were a blur of pain, weakness, and moments of clarity where I could see Teddy trying so hard to keep everything together. She didn't say it, but I could see the strain in her eyes, the exhaustion she was trying to hide. She never left my side, always checking on me, always asking if I was okay. But there were fewer and fewer moments when I could say that I was.

I could feel myself fading, bit by bit. My skin had grown pale, my bones felt hollow, and I could hardly summon the strength to hold a conversation. Sometimes, I couldn't even find the energy to look at the people I loved most. It was easier to close my eyes and pretend that everything was fine. That the cancer hadn't taken over every part of my life, my body, my mind.

But the hardest part was watching Allison. She was so young, so full of life, and yet she seemed to know something was wrong. She started asking more questions—where was mommy going? Why didn't I play with her as much? Why was I always tired?

One night, after another difficult round of treatment, I was lying on the couch, staring blankly at the television. Allison came up to me, her small hand resting on my arm.

"Mommy, you no smile anymore," she said, her little voice so full of concern. "You okay?"

Teddy stood at the doorway, her expression unreadable. I could feel her watching us, but my focus was on Allison. My heart twisted at the sight of her innocent face, her big brown eyes searching mine for reassurance.

"I'm okay, sweetheart," I whispered, trying to give her a smile that felt forced. "Just a little tired."

She didn't seem convinced, but she gave me a small hug and kissed my cheek. "I love you, Mommy," she said simply, her voice soft but filled with the kind of love that only a child can offer.

I held her close, feeling the tightness in my chest. I wasn't okay. I wasn't even close to being okay. But I had to keep pretending. For her. For Teddy. For all of them.

As the days went on, the fatigue grew worse. I spent most of my time in bed, barely able to move. Teddy stayed close, always by my side, but there was nothing she could do to fix this. There was no miracle left.

And though I could feel myself slipping further away, I held on—if only for a little while longer. For Allison, for Teddy, for my family. Because they deserved to have every piece of me for as long as I could give it.

One day at a time. One moment at a time.

That's all I had left.