Lily went into remission eight months ago. Her hair is growing back now—soft brown fuzz that’s getting longer every day.
But Leo kept his curls. “I made a promise,” he said simply.
We never pushed him to cut it. It was his hair. His promise. His way of loving his sister.
Brenda knew Lily had been sick. She’d visited the hospital a handful of times. But she never asked why Leo’s
hair mattered. She never bothered to understand.
She just decided it needed to be fixed.
