Chapter 15 - The Question I Couldn't Answer for Her
The next six weeks changed us.
Not dramatically.
That would have been easier.
Change happened in small things.
I learned which crackers Sophie could tolerate after treatment.
She learned that I woke at 4:45 even without an alarm.
I stopped checking work email during dinner.
She stopped pretending she wasn't scared before blood tests.
We started therapy.
Separately first.
Then together.
The counselor's name was Dr. Mason.
On our third joint session, she asked a question neither of us expected.
“If Sophie had never become ill, would you two be sitting here?”
Silence.
I looked at Sophie.
She looked at me.
“No,” I said.
Sophie nodded.
“No.”
Dr. Mason leaned back.
“Then cancer did not repair your marriage.”
I frowned.
“It created proximity.”
Sophie stared at the carpet.
Dr. Mason continued.
“Don't confuse proximity with healing.”
That sentence followed me for days.
I began returning to base twice a week.
Not because Sophie needed less.
Because I needed to prove I could be part of her life without turning her illness into my entire identity.
The first day I returned, she texted me at noon.
You haven't asked if I've eaten.
I stared at the screen.
I typed back.
Have you eaten?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
That was a test.
I smiled.
I deleted my question.
Instead, I wrote.
I'll trust you to feed yourself.
Her reply came immediately.
Growth.
I laughed in the middle of headquarters.
Captain Reese looked at me.
“Good news?”
“I think so.”
The second treatment cycle ended.
We waited for the scan.
Sophie tried not to talk about it.
I tried not to hover.
Neither of us succeeded.
The night before the appointment, she came to my apartment.
She had never been there.
She looked around.
“This is depressing.”
“I've been busy.”
“You own one plant.”
“It requires discipline.”
“It's plastic.”
“I've kept it alive.”
She rolled her eyes.
Then she noticed the photograph on my shelf.
Our wedding photograph.
The same one she had kept.
She looked at me.
“You kept one too.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I considered lying.
Then remembered what honesty had cost us.
“Because I still loved my wife.”
Her face softened.
“Even while divorcing her?”
“Especially then.”
Sophie sat on the couch.
“Ethan.”
I joined her.
“If the scan is bad tomorrow, I need you to promise me something.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“If surgery is the safest option…”
She couldn't finish.
I took her hand.
She forced the words out.
“Don't let me run.”
I stared at her.
“I can't make the decision for you.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“Remind me that I asked to live.”
I squeezed her hand.
“I promise.”
The next morning, the scan showed the lesion had not changed.
May you like
And Dr. Brooks finally said the word Sophie had been dreading.
“Surgery.”
