Her father—Mark—grew quieter after that. He didn’t accuse me. He didn’t yell. He simply stopped looking at me the same way.
Emily’s health declined quickly after that. The doctors spoke in softer voices. The nurses lingered longer in the doorway.
Then came the day we all knew was coming.
She was lying in her bed, pale and fragile beneath the blankets, her breathing shallow.
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Can I see Charlie… one last time?”
