The next morning, I woke up in excruciating pain. The cancer cells burned through my body like flames, but the painkillers helped me maintain a calm facade. I forced myself out of bed—there was so much left to do. 

Walking down the stairs, I heard Candice’s laughter coming from the living room. She was sitting on Yvonne’s lap, reading a picture book together. 

“Mommy Yvonne, this princess is so pretty!” Candice pointed excitedly at the page. 

“She is. Just like you, Candice,” Yvonne replied gently, kissing her forehead. 

When Candice saw me, she only glanced up briefly before returning to her book as if I were just an insignificant stranger. 

“Good morning, Candice,” I said as I slowly walked over. 

“Morning,” she replied dismissively, then tugged on Yvonne’s hand. “Mommy Yvonne, can we go to the garden and look for butterflies?” 

“Just a second, sweetheart,” Yvonne said, pretending to look concerned as she glanced at me. “Your mommy might want to talk to you.” 

“I don’t want to hear it. Mommy’s always busy and never plays with me.” Candice pouted. 

Her words sliced through me like a knife. She was right—I had spent less time with her over the years because of work, while Yvonne always had time for Candice.