with stitches in his chest, and somehow he still managed to look at me like an older brother about to tell me the truth I had avoided.
“You left, Ethan,” he said. “I know you were hurting. I know you thought you were doing the right thing. But you left. Whatever Sophie did afterward, she did because she believed she couldn’t depend on you.”
I wanted to argue.
I wanted to defend myself.
But the words wouldn’t come.
Because deep down, I knew Mark was right.
He sighed. “That doesn’t mean you can’t show up now. But don’t show up expecting forgiveness just because you’re scared.”
I looked toward the window, at the city beyond the hospital glass.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Start small,” he said. “And stay consistent.”
After leaving Mark’s room, I walked two blocks in the cold wind to find the tea shop. I bought
