“Max, please—”
Click.
I end the call before I hear her cry.
I toss the phone onto the couch like it burned me. Drag my hands down my face. My throat feels raw. My chest is cracked open and everything inside me is spilling onto the floor.
But I can't take it back.
Iwon’t.
***
I’m fifteen minutes early.
The waiting room smells like hand sanitizer and lavender air freshener—like someone tried to mask the fact that this is a place where life and fear start in the same breath. It’s quiet, except for the low whir of the HVAC and the occasional ding from someone’s phone.
I sit stiff in a vinyl chair, hands clasped between my knees, trying not to bounce one of my legs. The receptionist gave me a polite smile when I walked in, like she recognized me but was too professional to say it out loud.
The door opens behind me.
I don’t have to turn to know it’s her.
It’s like gravity shifts.
And then—
“Nora?” the receptionist says.
I stand, and we see each other at the same time.
Her eyes widen.
For a second, neither of us says a word.
God, she looks…
She looks tired. But beautiful. Oversized sweater swallowing her frame, dark leggings tucked into scuffed boots. Her hair’s pulled back into a loose braid, and there’s a faint flush on her cheeks from the cold. And even though she’s staring right at me, it feels like we’re oceans apart.
“Hi,” she says, voice quiet.
I nod. “Hey.”
She walks toward the chairs, arms crossed like she’s holding herself together. I want to reach for her. I don’t. I can’t.
“Thanks for coming,” she says, sitting down without looking at me.
“You didn’t think I would?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
Her jaw tightens. “Honestly? I didn’t know what to think.”
Silence stretches between us.
“I wasn’t sure,” she adds softly, “if I should evenwantyou here.”
That hurts. But I don’t blame her.
“I told you I’d show up,” I say, quieter now. “I meant it.”
