The nurse explained that the odds of being a match with a specific person were infinitesimal, like looking for a needle in a haystack the size of a city. Carmen didn’t care. She had to try. She filled out the forms, had her blood drawn, and waited.
Those were weeks of agonizing silence. Carmen continued patrolling the A2, and every time she saw a black car, her heart leapt. She wondered if Luna was still alive, if Diego was holding her hand in a sterile room.
And then, the phone rang.
“Agent Ruiz,” a professional voice said on the other end, “we’re calling from the Bone Marrow Donor Registry. We have a preliminary match.”
Carmen’s world stopped.
“Is it… is it for the girl?” she asked, knowing they couldn’t give her details because of data protection laws.
“We can’t give you details about the receiver,” the voice replied, “but yes, it’s a high-priority match. We need you to come in for urgent confirmatory testing.”
The tests confirmed the impossible. Carmen was a match. Not just a match, it was a perfect match. It was the miracle Diego had been waiting for.