I had to stay strong for her, keep my tears at bay and fake a smile. She could see through it though. She reached out for my hand and squeezed it. Her hand was cold, wrapped in gauze with injection tubes protruding from it. I stared at her clammy face, wishing we were in an entirely different scenario. But we weren't, this was reality. The ward room curtains opened gently and a doctor followed by a nurse stepped in. He did several checks on her, asking her to independently move her limbs and recall memories. The doctor cleared his throat and looked at the 3 of us: her, myself and her father.

"Everything seems to be okay except..." he faltered, "her tumours". I of course already knew about them but the word sent chills up my spine. "There are four as you've already seen in the scans. Two on her optic nerve which has caused the blindness, and the other two... they are cause for concern. Not immediate however, which is why we will refrain from removing them presently..."

"Doctor," I interrupted, panic filling my heart. "What if they attack other nerves, I..." I couldn't finish my sentence. I begun sobbing, feeling as though I was going to faint. The nurse guided me out of the room, handing me a plastic cup of glacial water. I downed it in one gulp, closing my eyes to the sensation. I could hear the faint conversation between my husband and doctor. I usually was strong in absolutely every moment, but this was too much. We'd found out my daughter was going to be blind at the age of 5 but the doctors had never known what was the reason until now.

"Four," I choked, tears streaming down my face. The nurse rubbed my back reassuringly, her eyes misty with painful pity.