At my graduation, the parents who abandoned me while I was fighting cacer appeared in the reserved seats as if they deserved to share in my achievemen

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Susan stared at her.

Laura repeated herself.

“I want to foster Emily. I’m already state-approved, and I know exactly what her medical needs are.”

Susan warned her about everything the decision would require: appointments, medications, school arrangements, emergencies, paperwork, and the enormous responsibility of caring for a child undergoing cacer treatment. Laura listened without hesitation before turning toward me.

“Only if you want to come home with me.”

For the first time since my parents walked out of Room 314, I felt something stronger than fear.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Please.”

I didn’t know it yet, but that answer would eventually change far more than my address. The woman who entered my hospital room as my night nurse was about to give me something my biological family had decided I wasn’t worth giving.

A home. And eventually, her name.

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