Part 2: When Fear Meets Love
“I’m scared, Mom,” I finally admitted.
The words felt heavy, like something I had been holding inside for too long. I had always tried to be strong for her, to hide my fears—but that night, I couldn’t pretend anymore.
She didn’t look surprised. She simply held my hand tighter.
“I know,” she said gently. “And it’s okay to be scared.”
Her words broke something inside me. Tears filled my eyes before I could stop them.
“What if something happens to me?” I asked quietly. “What if I don’t come back?”
She shook her head softly, as if refusing to let those thoughts exist.
“Don’t think like that,” she whispered. “You will come back.”
“But what if I don’t?” I insisted, my voice trembling.
This time, she didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against mine.
“Then I will still be proud of you,” she said. “Because you’re facing this. And that matters more than anything.”
Her words hurt… but they also gave me a strange kind of comfort.
A few minutes later, my dad walked in. He looked surprised to see us both awake, but quickly understood the moment.
“I guess none of us are sleeping tonight,” he said with a soft smile.
He stood beside me, quiet at first, then began to speak.
“Do you remember when you fell off your bike as a kid?” he asked.
I nodded.
“You were terrified to go to the hospital,” he continued. “But you went anyway. And afterward, you said it wasn’t as bad as you imagined.”
I looked at him, trying to hold onto that memory.
“Maybe this will be the same,” he said.
I wanted to believe him… but this felt bigger, heavier.
“I don’t feel brave,” I admitted.
He smiled gently.
“You don’t have to feel brave,” he said. “You just have to go through it.”
That thought stayed with me.
Maybe courage isn’t about feeling strong. Maybe it’s just about continuing, even when you’re afraid.
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