With that authority, emergency funding moved quickly. The hospital approved the gene therapy.
Recovery wasn’t instant. It never is. But over months, Eli gained weight—slowly, steadily. His body began to respond.
Rachel completed her treatment program and returned more stable. Not perfect. Just stronger. She asked for help when she needed it. She showed up.
One crisp autumn afternoon, leaves drifting gold around them, Marcus spread a blanket in a small park. Lila ran laughing through the leaves. Rachel arrived carrying Eli—bigger now, still in therapy, but present in a way that once felt impossible.
Lila knelt beside her brother and let him curl his fingers around hers.
“He’s not getting lighter anymore,” she said proudly.
Rachel’s eyes filled.
“I thought we were invisible.”
Marcus looked at them—mended, imperfect, real.
“Not anymore,” he said. “Not while I’m here.”
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