Her body trembled beneath the heat, each breath thin and fragile. Doctors increased her steroids, hoping it was just her white blood cells returning after transplant — but their instincts whispered something worse.
Her liver numbers spiked. A warning sign. VOD — a dangerous post-transplant complication.
Her belly began to swell, pushing against her lungs. Sleep came only in short, painful waves — each one marked by faint, muffled moans. The medicine that could save her liver also carried the risk of internal bleeding. A cruel balance between healing… and harm.
Exhausted, she slept through most of the day. And when she finally woke, she didn’t ask about pain. She didn’t ask what was happening to her body. She simply whispered:
“Can we watch Samantha?”
It was her favorite story — about a lonely orphan girl who finds love and family again. They started the movie. Ten minutes in, Avry’s head gently fell against her mother’s arm. Eyes closed. No tears. Only silence. A moment of soft, fragile peace.
That night… the blood tests arrived. The fever wasn’t from recovery.
It was infection.
Another unseen battle.
Another reason to fight.
Outside her room, the hallway lights stayed on. Monitors beeped softly in the dark. And her parents held onto the only thing they had left — hope. Because sometimes, hope is the only way to breathe when the world feels too heavy to carry.
🙏 Keep fighting, Avry. You are not alone.