out a shaky laugh that turned dangerously close to a sob.
“I still can’t pronounce it.”
A faint smile touched her mouth.
“Thought so.”
I sat beside her and took her hand only after she moved her fingers toward mine.
“You did great,” I whispered.
She drifted in and out of sleep.
Each time she woke, she seemed surprised to find me there.
Each time, I said the same thing.
“I’m here.”
Two days after surgery, I went to Sophie’s apartment to pick up a few more things.
The city felt different that day. Brighter, though the sky was overcast. I parked outside her building and sat for a moment before going in.
The envelope was still in the drawer.
Ethan.
My name looked like a memory in Sophie’s handwriting.
I sat on the edge of her bed and opened it carefully.
The letter was four pages long.
At first,
