When I was six years old, I made a promise to my best friend, Noah, that I never imagined would change our lives.

We met in first grade because we both hated raisins. He called them “old grapes,” and I laughed so hard that we became inseparable.

Noah had Down syndrome, but to me, he was simply my best friend.

One afternoon, a classmate cruelly told him that nobody would ever love him. Seeing his face fall, I grabbed his hand and promised that someday, we would go to prom together.

Twelve years passed.

We grew up, survived awkward teenage years, and remained close. And when senior prom finally arrived, Noah remembered every word of our childhood promise.

He appeared at my house wearing a navy suit and the biggest smile I’d ever seen.

But just as I was about to join him, my mother pulled me into my bedroom and locked the door.

“Christina,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, “there’s something you need to know about Noah. And about me.”

Continue below in Part 2