I feel the angel's arrival.
It's him.
And whenever he comes, it means I am about to deliver a message to someone.
But who?
"You may use me, in God's name," I tell him.
"Kneel down. Pray for your sister, and I will show you," he instructs.
"Lord, restore her health. Please heal her," I plead.
My tears soak the living room floor.
I see Lívia in profile, her left hand resting over her right breast, her head bowed as if in prayer.
Her body glows with a luminous beige light. She is translucent, and I can make out the outline of her organs. There is a small black spot, devoid of light, in her right breast, exactly where her hand rests.
I call her and tell her about the vision the angel showed me.
"I'm afraid it might have spread somewhere else in my body..." she whispers, fighting back tears.
"In the vision, it was only in your right breast. Don't worry. Victory is yours," I assure her.
"Yesterday I prayed and cried at the Lord's feet. I was so distressed about this, and today the answer came. Thank God. I feel so much more relieved now," Lívia sighs.
"I didn't know you were carrying that fear."
"I was. Thank you, my sister, for those comforting words."
"You're welcome."
"Are we going shopping for the wig tomorrow? My hair is falling out so quickly," Lívia says sadly.
"Yes, and we need to get there early because appointments are one-on-one."
"Then I'll sleep at your house."
"Of course. I'd love that."
The next morning, we arrive before the store opens.
We sit anxiously on the reception sofa, chatting while we wait.
When the doors finally open, we step inside and find ourselves surrounded by wigs—each one more beautiful than the last.
"They're not wigs," the saleswoman explains kindly as we browse. "They're hair prostheses, all handmade."
"Lívia, look at this one! It has highlights!" I say, admiring it as I run my fingers through the hair.
"This one was crafted strand by strand, which is why it looks so natural. It's entirely handcrafted," the saleswoman explains.
"Can I hold it?" Lívia asks, reaching out.
"Of course," the woman replies, removing it from the mannequin.
"It has a mesh base!" Lívia says in amazement.
"That's right. No one will ever know you're wearing a prosthesis."
Lívia tries it on and smiles.
"How do I look?"
"Beautiful. You look beautiful," I answer happily.
Turning to the saleswoman, I admit:
"I don't even know how to shave her head."
"We do that here. She'll leave ready to go, with the prosthesis already fitted."
We move into a private room.
Carefully, the saleswoman shaves Lívia's head with electric clippers and immediately fits the prosthesis.
"It looks even better than my real hair!" Lívia exclaims.
We all laugh.
"It's your gift," I tell her.
"No! I'll pay you back little by little."
"It's a gift, and that's final. I want you to get through this trial as comfortably as possible."
"Thank you, Ana. God will repay you double."
"I want nothing in return, and God knows that."
Afterward, we head to the mall for ice cream.
"Ana, nobody noticed I'm wearing a wig," she whispers as we walk arm in arm.
"I'll have a scoop of chocolate," I say.
"And I'll have cherry."
"You have beautiful hair. Did you have it done at the salon here in the mall?" the attendant asks.
"Thank you! I went to a hairstylist near my house," Lívia replies with a smile while we wait for our ice cream.
We sit together, happy, taking pictures and chatting.
Then suddenly, Lívia grows quiet.
"What's wrong, Lívia?"
"Ana, are you sure you want to take care of me? You're working... I don't want to be a burden," she admits sadly.
"I want to take care of you. I've already told you that. God will give us strength."
"Klaus can't handle this. Helena, my daughter, goes out with her friends and barely asks how I'm doing," she says, wiping her tears away with a napkin.
"Everything will work out. Remember the vision? It's only a matter of time before you get rid of that little black spot," I reassure her.
I'm frightened too, but I do my best not to show it. I want her to feel that she can rely on me.
"Thank you, Ana," she whispers.
"And I thank God for the privilege of being chosen to care for you."
After her first chemotherapy session, she came to my house and slept in my bed.
I wanted to make sure I was close by if she needed anything.
On the first night, Lívia wakes up screaming.
I switch on the light immediately.
"There! Above your head!"
"There's nothing there, Lívia!" I reply, startled.
"There's a giant insect flapping its wings! Can't you see it?" she shouts, pointing above me.
"There's nothing there! You're hallucinating!" I warn her.
Lívia jumps out of bed and runs through the house, seeing giant insects everywhere.
I run after her, afraid she'll hurt herself.
She's completely disoriented.
She rushes out onto the balcony, throws herself onto the sofa, and dozes off.
I lie down on a nearby bench and drift off as well.
A little while later, she jolts awake.
"There! Black specks are falling! It's like the wall is crumbling apart!" she cries, pointing at the wall.
"Lívia, there's nothing there."
I give her anti-nausea medication and the rest of her medicines.
Finally, she falls asleep peacefully.
I stay awake the entire night, keeping watch because I'm afraid she might become ill in her sleep.
The next morning, I go to work, and she stays home with Déia, the woman who helps care for my house.
On the second day, she feels exhausted and terribly nauseated.
By the third day, she begins to improve.
"Ana, you must be so tired. You haven't been sleeping, and you work all day," she apologizes.
"How many times have we stayed awake all night with a sick child?" I reply. "And then gone to work the next day anyway? I'm doing for you exactly what I once did for my children."
Sometimes, she still senses them watching from a distance, but they no longer disturb her.
"I keep thinking... if it weren't for you, what would become of me, Ana? Who would take care of me?" she whimpers.
"God chose me to care for you. Don't think about that anymore."
Gradually, Lívia grows stronger and eventually returns home to her husband and daughters.