My hands shook as I took the envelope. It was heavy and sealed, and the doctor’s handwriting covered the front: “Read before sunrise. Do not tell Chloe yet.” I glanced at my daughter, who was watching the horizon with peaceful eyes. The ranger lowered his voice. “He said it was urgent, ma’am. He said you would understand once you read the first page.”

I tore it open. Inside was a medical report, and a handwritten note clipped to the top. The first line made my breath stop: “New test results arrived last night. I was wrong about the scans.” Behind me, Chloe called softly, “Mom, it’s starting.” The sky blazed orange, and I could not tell if I was about to lose her or be given something impossible.