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“Ma_! Mama!” the little Yura gleefully yelled from security of her mother’s arms.

__el_ snuggled little Yura. “Oh, my baby.” She hid her tears from the child, but she could not hide her wavering voice. “I’m so sorry. (cough)”

“Don’t worry __el_,” said __s__. He too was trying his best to hide his tears.

In a room filled with the most modern of medical equipment, the three were together, around __el_’s bed. Their final time together as a family.

“I’m so sorry, my dear Yura. I won’t be able to see you grow. I won’t be there for your birthdays.” Each word, heavier and more pained than the last.

The little Yura could only give her mother her beaming smile. A gentle comfort in the somber moment.

__s__ embraced his wife and daughter, sobbing quietly.

“I’m so sorry, ___el_. I couldn’t save yo_. A__ my studies, and I can’t ev__ save the on_ I love.”

“No, __s__, you did what you c_uld. Please, give o_r daughter the l_ve I __uldn’t.”

“But-!”

“N_, please. I can fe_l myself dy_ng. I’m tired. Pl__se, for me. For Yura. You are a genius, __ love. Do_t let her forget about __. (cough)”

The heavy words hung in the air as she handed little Yura to her husband.

“_ love ___ both.”

The sound of her vitals flatlined, and all went dark.