For a second, the noise of the hospital—the doors sliding open, the distant beeping, people talking—faded into nothing. Just those words, hanging between us like something heavy and irreversible.
I let go of her arm slowly.
“What?” I asked, my voice colder than I expected.
She swallowed, gripping her cane with shaking hands. “He’s been sick for a long time. Years. It got worse… much worse. The doctors say…” Her voice cracked. “There’s not much time left.”
A strange sensation twisted in my chest. Not pity. Not yet.
Something complicated. Something I didn’t want to name.
“I don’t care,” I said quickly, almost too quickly. “You made sure he wasn’t part of our lives. Remember?”
Her eyes squeezed shut like my words physically hurt her. “I know. I know what I did. I destroyed everything. I took you away from him… and him away from you.” She looked up again, desperate. “But he didn’t know.”
