"Oh," I breathe.

"Is that all you have to say? I just flew five hours to see you and that's all you're going to say?" she laughs.

"Flo, I just need a minute to process this."

"Take all the time you need. I can wait a little longer. You're well worth the wait." She glances down to my lips and my breath hitches.

"Okay, time's up," I say. I step closer to her and grab her waist, pulling her body towards mine. She gasps at the sudden contact, and I search her eyes for any sign of hesitation.

"Are you gonna kiss me or not?" she asks breathlessly.

"I'm enjoying the view," I respond cheekily. I feel her hand run lightly up my arm and over my back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her hand finally comes to rest on the base of my neck, and she begins to pull my head closer to hers.

We lean in and I can feel her breath fanning across my lips. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest, I'm almost certain she can hear it.

A loud thump interrupts our moment and scares us so bad that we jump away from each other before our lips can meet. With furrowed eyebrows, I look towards the living room to find the source of the noise.

"Syd?" I call out as I walk towards the couch. I hear Flo following behind me, but I'm more worried about Sydney's lack of answer. "Syd," I repeat.

I walk around to the front of the couch, and see her laying on the floor, holding her head. I kneel next to her and pull her hands away from her face. "Syd, what's wrong? Talk to me please." I'm panicking but I don't let her see it, because I know I can't. I'm her mother; I have to be strong when she's hurt.

"I f-fell of the...I fell off the c- the couch," she stutters, seeming disoriented. "M-mom, my head...it hurt- it hurts."

My heart sinks. I think I forget how to breathe. I freeze. For just a moment, I freeze. But then I jump into action.

"Okay, come on, babe. Get up," I tell her. I help her stand off the floor, but it's like one side of her body isn't functioning correctly. Her left leg gives out and she begins to fall to the floor, but I catch her and pick her up.

"Y/N..." Florence begins. The look in her eyes says everything she can't. This is serious. Emergency room type of serious.

"I know." I grab my car keys off the counter. "You don't have to come. I know you probably have stuff you need to do-"

"I'm coming," she declares, leaving no room for argument. I nod and we make our way to the car. Syd falls asleep in the few minutes I'm carrying her. Florence sits in the backseat with Syd and I get in the driver's seat.

My grip on the wheel turns my knuckles white. My jaw is clenched so hard it might break. I look in the rearview mirror and Syd is leaning against Flo's side. Flo is holding her hand and rubbing her head, humming softly. The sight eases me a little bit, but not nearly enough.

We get to the hospital faster than we should have. Traffic laws be damned. As I grab Syd out of the backseat, I hand Flo a baseball cap so maybe she won't get recognized. "Thank you," she mutters.

We walk into the emergency room, Sydney on my hip and Flo walking on the other side of me. It's a blur as I speak to the nurse at the reception desk. The concerned look on his face doesn't go unnoticed by me. Something is wrong. Something has been wrong. I should've brought her here sooner.

We're stuck in the waiting room for hours. Sydney is laying across a chair, sleeping with her head on my lap. At some point, Florence grabs my shaking hand and softly rubs circles with her thumb. We don't exchange any words. What is there to say?

After two hours of waiting, we're brought to a bed in the ER. A doctor eventually comes in and does a brief checkup. Most of everything we talk about is like a dull buzz in the back of my mind. I can't stop looking at Syd. She just looks so tired.

Nausea, vomiting, fever, headaches, weakness in one side of the body, difficult speaking, sleepiness. The doctor pages the on-call neurologist. I can't breathe.

The neurologist shows up after half an hour and does a checkup. We tell him everything we told the first doctor.

Sydney gets admitted and we're brought to a room in the pediatric wing.

Florence never lets go of my hand. I'm more grateful for her steady hand in mine than she could ever imagine.

We sit in silence in the hospital room for almost an hour. I think I might get sick, but I don't. I watch Syd's sleeping form in the hospital bed, and Florence rubs small circles on my hand. I try to focus on that. On her. It helps, but not enough.

Eventually, Syd is brought to radiology for an MRI. When the neurologist comes back to the hospital room, his face is carefully neutral. It instantly puts me on edge.

Florence and I stand hand-in-hand in the hall as he talks to me. She offered to give me privacy, but I need her to keep me upright. I go pale as he explains what they found on the scans. A tumor. A brain tumor. Glioblastoma. Rare, but the most common brain tumor in adults. Aggressive. Needs to be caught early. Did we catch it early enough?

Eventually I interrupt his calm explanation. "What are the chances of survival?" My tone is quiet, calm, cold. It doesn't shake. The doctor sighs.

"You have to understand that this is a very difficult kind of brain cancer to treat. The tumor isn't in a defined area, so it's hard to identify the borders-"

"Just tell me. Don't sugarcoat it," I request evenly.

"The average 5-year survival rate in pediatric cases is 20%."

I don't say a damn thing. I look at the wall next to us. There's a chip in the paint. It's yellow and ugly against the soft baby blue color.

"I'll give you some time before we discuss treatment options," he says before he walks away. Florence gently turns me away from the wall to face her. She cups my face in her hands as tears softly drip down my cheeks. She wipes them with her thumbs without saying a word.

She pulls me against her body and I bury my head in the crook of her neck. Her strong arms wrap around me and rub my shaking body to calm the sobs. She doesn't tell me that everything will be okay. And I'm so thankful for that.