Voices carried through the wall from outside the door. Every word came through perfectly clear. My mother was on the phone.
"Yes, cancel it. We're not doing the lung rejection surgery tomorrow. Give that private sterile room to Harry instead."
She kept her voice deliberately low against the receiver, her tone dripping with sincerity.
"It's fine. Libby's always been tough—a few more days won't kill her. Harry lost his birth parents. As his adoptive parents, we have to give him the highest level of security and comfort. Don't you think?"
But that surgery was the anti-rejection procedure I'd waited seven months for.
My respiratory system was failing a little more each day. My doctor had said that if we delayed any longer, I might not make it to spring.
She knew. She knew all of it.
Harrison's voice drifted in from the living room.
"Mommy, look! I sealed up all the cracks around the door!"
He ran to my bedroom door holding a can of industrial expanding foam sealant, spraying it along every gap and vent.
White foam expanded and hardened, sealing off the last of the air.
"Trapping the poison gas inside!"
He clapped his hands, bouncing with excitement.
My father walked over and ruffled his hair.
"Harry's so clever—he even knows about soundproofing. Now your sister can throw all the tantrums she wants in there without keeping you up."
Harrison pouted and burrowed into my father's arms.
"Daddy, are you gonna write that article today? The one that says nice things about our family?"
My father smiled.
He opened his laptop and typed a headline into the backend of the neighborhood Facebook page: "Let Love Melt the Snow: One Hundred Days and Nights of Adopting a Terminally Ill Orphan."
The cover photo was that picture-perfect family portrait from the living room. Harrison beamed in my father's arms. My mother stood beside them, gazing at him adoringly.
I wasn't in the photo.
But I was in the article.
"Our eldest daughter, Libby, fully supports our decision to adopt Harry. She says she's thrilled to finally have a little brother, and it makes her happy every single day."
Less than an hour after the post went live, it had over five thousand views.
The comments section exploded.
"Mr. and Mrs. Chavez are absolute saints. Who in this day and age would adopt a terminally ill orphan?"
"Libby sounds like such a good girl. She's so lucky to have been born into your family."