I nodded.
"If you're comfortable."
He swallowed.
"Of course."
The doctor confirmed that I wanted him present for the discussion.
Then she pulled up a chair.
I sat beside Eli.
My hands were trembling.
The doctor looked at me.
"We have some encouraging news."
The words almost stopped my heart.
I stared at her.
She continued carefully, explaining that Eli's latest evaluations showed no detectable evidence of leukemia by the tests used at that stage and that he met the criteria for remission.
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what she was saying.
I had heard the word so many times in conversations about treatment.
Now it was being used about my son.
"Remission?" I repeated.
The doctor nodded.
"Yes."
I covered my mouth.
She continued, explaining that remission was an important milestone, but that Eli would still need to complete his prescribed treatment plan and continue close follow-up. There were no guarantees, and the medical team would keep monitoring his response.
I heard every word.
I knew she wasn't promising that all the difficult days were over.
But something enormous had changed.
I looked toward Eli.
He was watching the adults with a confused expression.
"Mommy?"
I couldn't speak.
He frowned.
"Why are you crying?"
I leaned toward him.
"Oh, baby."
My voice broke.
"The medicine is working."
He looked toward the doctor.
"Really?"
She smiled.
"Your tests show very good progress."
Eli considered that.
Then he asked, "Can I go home?"
The doctor laughed softly.
"We'll keep following your treatment plan, and we'll talk about what comes next."
My son looked thoughtful.
Then he turned toward Wade.
"Did I win?"
The biker stood near the window.
His enormous hands covered his face.
His shoulders were shaking.
For a moment, he couldn't answer.
Then he lowered his hands.
His cheeks were wet.
He walked closer to the bed.
He looked at Eli.
And in a voice broken by emotion, he whispered, "You did it, little man."
My son smiled.
Then he shook his head.
"No, Wade."
The biker blinked.
Eli reached for his hand.
"We did it."
Wade lowered himself beside the bed.
He laughed and cried at the same time.
I wrapped my arms around Eli as gently as I could.
He protested immediately.
"Mommy, you're squishing me!"
I laughed through tears.
"Sorry, baby."
He grinned.
Wade covered his eyes again.
The doctor smiled.
For several minutes, the room seemed full of something I hadn't allowed myself to feel in a very long time.
Relief.
Not certainty.
Not a guarantee.
But relief.
A real, beautiful moment of it.