“Anytime,” Maggie said. “Day or night. I’m here.”
“I love you,” Evie said, and there was something raw and desperate in her voice.
“I love you too,” Maggie replied. “Go. Be with her. And Evie?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re doing beautifully. She knows she’s not alone. That’s everything.”
After they hung up, Maggie sat on the couch for a long time, staring at nothing.
She thought about Sarah’s final days. About how Maggie had tried so hard to fix everything, to manage every moment, to control outcomes that were always beyond her reach.
She thought about what Sarah had actually needed—not management, but presence. Not control, but witness.
And she thought about Evie, standing in that hospital room alone, doing the hard work of honoring Daisy’s choices while her own heart broke.
That evening, when Evie came home, Maggie had the apartment ready—soft lighting, comfort food she knew Evie wouldn’t eat but appreciated anyway, space to fall apart if needed.
Evie walked through the door and immediately crumpled.
Maggie caught her, holding her while she sobbed into her shoulder, murmuring nothing and everything—I’ve got you, you’re okay, let it out, I’m here.
“I told Kara about hospice,” Evie said eventually, voice muffled against Maggie’s neck. “She agreed. Signed the papers. We moved Daisy to a comfort room.”
“That was the right call,” Maggie said.
“I know. But it feels like giving up.”
“It’s not giving up,” Maggie said firmly, pulling back to look at her. “It’s honoring what Daisy wants. It’s choosing quality of life over quantity. It’s brave, Evie.”
“You would’ve handled it better.”
“No,” Maggie said. “I would’ve handled it differently. More detached. More clinical. You handled it with compassion. That’s harder. And more valuable.”
Evie’s eyes watered again. “I don’t know how you did this with Sarah. How you survived it.”
Maggie’s throat tightened. “I didn’t. Not well, anyway. I managed her dying instead of being with her while she died. I was so focused on trying to keep her alive that I forgot to just... love her. Be present with her.”
“But you were there.”
“Physically, yes. But not emotionally. Not really.” Maggie’s voice dropped. “Don’t make my mistake. Be with Daisy. Really with her. Let yourself grieve while she’s still here instead of waiting until after.”
Evie nodded against her shoulder. “Will you help me?”
“However I can. Even if it’s just holding you when you come home. Even if I can’t be there physically.”
They moved to the couch, Evie curled into Maggie’s side, both of them quiet for a long time.
“Thank you,” Evie finally said. “For not trying to fix this. For just... being here.”
Maggie pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m learning. You’re a good teacher.”
“Liar,” Evie said, but there was affection in her voice.
That night, Maggie held Evie while she cried herself to sleep, and didn’t try to stop the tears or offer empty platitudes. She just stayed.
Present.
