Chapter 8 - The Shadow Near Her Spleen
Dr. Patel closed the office door.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Doctors rarely closed doors for good news.
Sophie noticed too.
Her hand became cold inside mine.
Dr. Patel opened the scan.
“The area near the spleen is active.”
I felt Sophie stop breathing.
“Cancer?”
“Possibly.”
Possibly was better than yes.
But not much better.
“We need a biopsy.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Sophie’s shoulders lowered.
I knew that posture.
It meant she was retreating somewhere inside herself.
I squeezed her hand.
She didn’t respond.
Dr. Patel continued.
“If it represents refractory disease, we may need to change treatment.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“We stay the course.”
I asked the questions Sophie couldn’t.
Probability.
Timeline.
Hospitalization.
Options.
Dr. Patel answered carefully.
When we returned to the parking garage, Sophie suddenly stopped.
“I can’t do this.”
I turned.
“Yes, you can.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t give me motivational speeches.”
“I wasn’t.”
She struck the concrete pillar with the heel of her hand.
“I lost Emma.”
Another hit.
“I lost Caleb.”
A third.
“And now my body is doing this.”
I caught her hand before she hurt herself.
“Stop.”
She tried to pull away.
“Let me go.”
“No.”
“Ethan.”
“No.”
She hit my chest instead.
Once.
Then again.
I let her.
“Why does my body keep killing everything?”
The question ripped through me.
“It didn’t kill them.”
“You don’t know that.”
“The doctors told us—”
“I don’t care what they told us.”
She shoved me.
“I carried them.”
Her voice broke.
“I was supposed to keep them safe.”
“And I failed.”
I grabbed her shoulders.
“You did not fail.”
“You don’t know what it feels like.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I know what it feels like to stand beside the woman you love and be completely useless.”
She stared at me.
“And I hated that feeling so much that I ran.”
Her anger stopped.
“I made your grief about my helplessness.”
“I made you pay for my fear.”
“And if you want to hate me for that, I will stand here and let you.”
She stared at me for a long time.
Then her forehead dropped against my chest.
“I don’t hate you.”
She began crying.
“That would be easier.”
I held her.
The biopsy was performed the following morning.
Results would take forty-eight hours.
That night, Sophie received a call from Rachel.
She listened.
Her face changed.
“What?”
I sat up.
Sophie looked at me.
“Our old house.”
“What about it?”
May you like
Her voice became almost inaudible.
“There’s been a fire.”
