Chapter 13 - The Day the Numbers Fell
Three weeks later, Dr. Brooks walked into the room smiling.
I had almost forgotten doctors could do that.
Sophie noticed too.
“What?”
Dr. Brooks sat.
“Your numbers dropped dramatically.”
Sophie froze.
“How dramatically?”
The doctor showed her the chart.
I didn't understand the numbers.
I understood Sophie's hand flying to her mouth.
“Is that good?”
Dr. Brooks laughed softly.
“Very good.”
I exhaled.
Sophie looked at me.
And suddenly we were both laughing.
Not because anything was funny.
Because relief had nowhere else to go.
I stood.
Sophie stood.
Then she hugged me.
Without hesitation.
Without warning.
Her arms wrapped around my chest.
Mine went around her.
It lasted three seconds.
Maybe four.
Then she realized what she had done.
She stepped back.
“Sorry.”
“Don't apologize.”
Her cheeks turned pink.
Dr. Brooks pretended to study the chart.
“We are not finished.”
Reality returned.
“How much longer?”
“At least several more cycles.”
Sophie nodded.
“But this is working?”
“Yes.”
That night, we celebrated with takeout mashed potatoes because nothing else sounded good to her.
We sat on the floor.
Sophie wore one of my old Army sweatshirts.
She had found it in the box from the house.
I stared at it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're staring.”
“You wore that the day you told me you were pregnant the first time.”
She looked down.
“I know.”
Silence settled between us.
But it wasn't the old silence.
This silence didn't feel like a wall.
It felt like a room we were both willing to stay inside.
Sophie picked at her food.
“Do you regret the divorce?”
I answered immediately.
“Yes.”
She looked up.
I continued.
“But I don't think signing new marriage papers tomorrow would fix anything.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“I didn't ask you to marry me.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“I'd probably say yes.”
That made her laugh.
A real laugh.
I hadn't heard it in months.
Then she became serious.
“I don't trust you yet.”
I nodded.
“You shouldn't.”
“I trust you here.”
She touched the hospital bracelet she still wore.
“I trust you when I'm sick.”
Her voice softened.
“But I don't know if I trust you when life becomes ordinary again.”
That was the hardest truth yet.
Because cancer had given me a mission.
Ordinary life would require something harder.
Consistency.
No crisis.
No emergency.
No enemy.
Just showing up.
Every day.
I reached for my water.
“Then don't decide now.”
She studied me.
“I'll keep showing up.”
“And if I never take you back?”
“I'll keep showing up anyway.”
Her eyes filled.
Then my phone rang.
Dr. Brooks.
I frowned.
We had left her office less than five hours earlier.
I answered.
May you like
Her first sentence erased our celebration.
“There is something on Sophie's scan we need to discuss.”
