Chapter 9: The First Appointment
She searched my face for the truth.
I let her look.
I did not defend myself.
I did not explain my fear, my grief, or the thousand excuses I had polished during lonely nights.
Excuses would only insult what she had survived.
Finally, Emma looked down at our joined hands.
“I have chemotherapy tomorrow morning.”
It was not forgiveness.
It was not reconciliation.
It was a door opened only a crack.
But I knew enough to treat that crack like mercy.
“What time?” I asked.
“Seven.”
“I’ll be here at six-thirty.”
Her mouth trembled.
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
She looked at me then.
Really looked.
For the first time in months, the icy wall between us began to thaw.
Not all the way.
Maybe not even halfway.
But enough for warmth to enter the corridor. Continue Reading ⬇️