Ex-husband sounded too small.
The man who left her sounded too honest.
“I’m Ethan,” I said finally.
The nurse’s expression changed with recognition, but she didn’t say anything.
“I just want to know if she needs anything,” I added. “I know you can’t share information with me. I understand that. But if there’s something I can bring her, or someone I should call—”
The nurse looked past me toward Sophie’s room.
Then she lowered her voice.
“She hasn’t been eating much,” she said. “She likes peppermint tea. Not the cafeteria kind. There’s a shop two blocks over.”
It was such a small piece of information.
And yet it nearly undid me.
Peppermint tea.
Sophie drank it whenever she was anxious. She used to make it at night in our kitchen, wrapping both hands around the mug while steam curled against her face.
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
I went to see my friend, but I barely remember the conversation. Mark was propped against pillows, pale but alert after surgery, and he noticed immediately that something was wrong.
“Man,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “you look worse than I do.”
I tried to smile.
It didn’t work.
“I saw Sophie.”
Mark’s expression softened. “Here?”
I nodded.
“In a patient gown.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, “You didn’t know?”
The room seemed to shrink.
I stared at him.
“What?”
Mark closed his eyes briefly. “Ethan…”
“You knew?”
His silence answered for him.
I stepped back from the bed.
“You knew Sophie was sick?”
