“He saw me.”
The words were simple.
They contained everything.
Not a diagnosis.
Not a responsibility.
Not a symbol of kindness.
A woman.
A partner.
A mind sharp enough to uncover a conspiracy that had survived seventeen years.
A heart brave enough to risk itself for her sister.
“He always saw you,” I said.
Rosie glanced at me.
“So did you. You just thought seeing me meant standing in front of me.”
The truth of it hurt.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I spent my life promising to protect you.”
“You did protect me.”
“Not always.”
“No one can always.”
She reached for my hand.
