“Well,” she says slowly. “That’s… a lot.”
“I said no,” I add quickly. “I walked away.”
“I know,” she says. “I can tell.”
I stare into my wine.
“I’m not selfish, am I?” I whisper. “For wanting more than… that?”
She considers me carefully.
“I don’t think you’re selfish for wanting love,” she says. “I think you’re scared of letting go of the version you imagined.”
I hate how true that sounds.
“I always thought…” My voice cracks. I clear my throat. “I thought love would be big. Not flashy. Just… deep. Like someone would know me so completely that choosing me wouldn’t be a question.”
Emily stays quiet.
“That we’d decide to have kids because we wanted to build something together. A world where our love existed beyond us.”
My whole heart aches.
“That was the one dream I kept,” I admit. “The one thing I didn’t compromise on.”
We sit in silence for a long time.
Then Emily says in a low voice, “Maybe that dream doesn’t fit who we are anymore.”
I look at her.
“Or who you need to be right now,” she continues. “Maybe the new dream is being with someone who makes things easier. Who helps you breathe. Who takes care of you for once.”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t see me. He sees… a solution. A trophy. A womb for hire.”
Emily tilts her head. “Is that what he said?”
“No.”
“Is that what he implied?”
I hesitate.
“Or is that what you heard?” she presses gently, “because you didn’t let him finish?”
The question hangs uncomfortably between us.
I don’t have an answer.
Emily reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I’m not saying you should say yes. I’m saying… maybe you don’t fully understand the offer yet.”
I stare at Mom. At the woman who gave me life, who has been suffering in unimaginable pain for years. At the future pressing in from all sides.
“I’m tired,” I whisper.
Emily nods. “I know, Lu.”
We sit there, two sisters trying to hold the fractured pieces of our world together, the dream I never said out loud hovering between us, the dreams I let go a long time ago and the dream I will do anything to make sure Emily gets to see come true.
