I covered my mouth with one hand, trying to steady myself.
“I never stopped loving you,” she said.
The words came so softly I almost thought I imagined them.
Then she closed her eyes.
“But I don’t know if love is enough to trust someone again.”
I nodded.
“That’s fair.”
“I want it to be enough.”
“So do I.”
Rain tapped steadily against the glass.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then Sophie reached out from beneath the blanket.
Her hand rested palm-up between us.
Slowly, carefully, I took it.
Her fingers were cold.
I held them like something precious and breakable.
The next morning, they wheeled her away just after sunrise.
Linda stood on one side of the gurney, crying despite trying not to. I stood on the other, holding Sophie’s overnight bag.
Sophie looked paler than usual under the surgical cap.
At the double doors, the nurse paused.
