54
The exam room was warm. Too warm.
Or maybe it was just Ericka.
Amanda could feel the tension rolling off her in waves, even though she hadn't said a word since they'd walked through the door. She sat on the exam table, posture stiff, hands folded neatly in her lap like she was waiting for a verdict.
Amanda sat beside her in a low-backed chair near the wall.
Everything felt too bright. Too clean. Too still.
And when the door finally opened, it felt like the breath Amanda had been holding all morning finally escaped.
Dr. Roman entered the room with a clipboard and kind eyes behind silver-rimmed glasses. He looked like someone's favorite uncle—warm, a little tired, deeply capable. He offered a small smile as he closed the door gently behind him.
"Ms. Matthews," he greeted Ericka, then nodded toward Amanda with an inquisitive glance.
Ericka cleared her throat. "This is Amanda. She's... she's with me."
Amanda offered a polite smile.
Dr. Roman didn't ask for more. He just nodded in understanding and pulled up a stool.
"Okay," he said gently, opening the folder on his lap. "Let's go over everything step by step."
Ericka nodded once.
Amanda could see her knuckles turning white where her hands were clasped in her lap.
Dr. Roman began with calm, clear language.
"The biopsy came back conclusive, and the imaging supports what we suspected—this is early-stage invasive ductal carcinoma. That's the most common type of breast cancer. It's confined to the breast tissue and has not spread to the lymph nodes. That's good news."
Amanda reached over and rested a hand on Ericka's arm.
She felt the slightest flinch. But Ericka didn't pull away.
Dr. Roman continued. "Because we caught it early, the treatment plan is relatively straightforward and proactive. We'll start with a lumpectomy—surgical removal of the tumor and surrounding tissue. That will be followed by radiation therapy to ensure any residual cells are destroyed."
Ericka swallowed hard but nodded.
"No chemo?" she asked, voice tight.
"At this point, we don't think it's necessary," Dr. Roman said carefully. "But we won't know for sure until after the lumpectomy and pathology report. If the margins are clear, radiation should be sufficient. If not, we'll revisit options."
Amanda didn't fully understand everything. But the words surgical removal and radiation were sharp enough.
"What's the timeline?" Amanda asked, her voice steady for both of them.
"We can schedule the surgery within the next ten days," Dr. Roman replied. "It's outpatient. Recovery time is usually one to two weeks. After that, you'll come in for radiation five days a week for about six weeks. Treatments only take fifteen to twenty minutes a day."
Ericka finally looked up. "I have a company to run."
Dr. Roman's smile was kind. "I understand. We'll schedule the sessions around your availability. First thing in the morning. Late afternoon. Whatever works."
Amanda felt Ericka relax by a fraction of an inch.
"I'll still be functional?" Ericka asked.
"Yes," he said. "Fatigue is common, but it's manageable. And it's okay to ask for help."
Ericka didn't respond to that part. Her jaw tightened slightly.
Amanda's thumb brushed slow circles on her forearm.
"How soon will I know the surgery went well?" Ericka asked.
"We'll get the pathology results within a few days. I'll call you personally."
Ericka nodded again, her voice barely audible. "Okay."
Dr. Roman glanced between them. "You're handling this better than most."
"I don't have a choice," Ericka said quickly. "I don't fall apart."
Amanda's heart tugged.
Dr. Roman offered a small smile. "Falling apart is sometimes the bravest thing you can do. But for now—this is a very treatable cancer. And you have an excellent shot at full recovery."
Ericka didn't blink. "Then let's get it done."
He nodded, stood, and squeezed her shoulder gently. "My nurse will bring in a packet with surgical prep instructions and paperwork. We'll call you with the surgery date by tomorrow."
When the door clicked shut behind him, silence returned.
Ericka sat perfectly still.
Amanda Stood slowly, stepping in front of her.
"Hey," she said gently.
Ericka finally looked up. Her eyes weren't wet, but they were raw. And tired.
"What do I do now?" she whispered.
Amanda bent down, cradled Ericka's face in her hands.
"You let yourself be human," she said softly. "And you let me be here."
Ericka leaned into her touch like it physically hurt not to.
For the first time since the diagnosis, she let the truth settle between them without fighting it.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
Amanda kissed her forehead and held it there.
"So am I," she whispered back. "But we'll walk through it. One step at a time."
And in that sterile, fluorescent-lit room, where the air smelled like antiseptic and fear—
Ericka finally let herself breathe.