“Private from me?”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t let them fall.
“We were already breaking, Ethan.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I had.”
My voice came out sharper than I intended. “You were sick, Sophie. You were scared. You were going through this, and you let me walk away?”
Her face changed then.
Not with anger exactly.
With exhaustion.
“I didn’t let you do anything,” she said. “You chose to leave.”
The words struck with quiet precision.
I had no defense against them.
Because she was right.
I had chosen.
I had told myself I was ending our suffering. I had told myself that some damage couldn’t be repaired. I had told myself divorce would be cleaner than living in a house filled with grief.
But standing in that hospital hallway, holding medical papers that proved Sophie had been battling something far worse than I imagined, every excuse I’d used to survive the past two months collapsed.
Dr. Keller cleared his throat softly.
“Sophie needs to return to her room,” he said. “She had a procedure this morning. She shouldn’t be standing this long.”
“What kind of procedure?” I asked.
Sophie’s gaze dropped again.
Dr. Keller looked at her, waiting for permission.
