Chapter 7 - THE NIGHT SHE DISAPPEARED
Sophie’s blood pressure had dropped.
Internal bleeding.
The doctors moved fast.
I stood outside a set of double doors with Rachel.
Neither of us spoke.
At 1:17 a.m., Dr. Morris came out.
“She’s stable.”
My knees weakened.
Rachel grabbed my sleeve.
“What happened?”
“A small vessel near the previous surgical site ruptured.”
“Does this change Friday?”
“Yes.”
The surgery would happen now.
Not Friday.
Now.
A nurse brought consent paperwork.
Sophie was awake enough to sign.
She asked for me.
I went in.
Her face was pale.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
“You look terrible.”
“So do you.”
“Good.”
Her mouth moved.
A weak smile.
Then she reached for my hand.
“I’m scared.”
It was the first time she had said it plainly.
I sat closer.
“I know.”
“Don’t tell me it’ll be fine.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I won’t.”
Her fingers tightened.
“What if I wake up and everything is different?”
I knew what she meant.
The surgery could end any remaining chance of carrying a child.
After everything we had lost, the cruelty of that possibility felt obscene.
I lowered my forehead to her hand.
“Then it’s different.”
She cried silently.
“And if I can’t have children?”
I looked at her.
“You are not a failed doorway to somebody else’s life.”
She stared at me.
The sentence had come out clumsy.
Not poetic.
Maybe that was why she believed it.
“You rehearsed that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
A nurse entered.
Time.
Sophie held my hand until the bed began moving.
At the doors, she let go.
Then called my name.
“Ethan.”
I stepped closer.
“If I don’t wake up—”
“No.”
“You promised not to lie.”
I swallowed.
“Okay.”
She whispered.
“There’s a box in the nursery closet.”
“What box?”
The doors started closing.
“Don’t open it unless I don’t come back.”
May you like
Then she disappeared.
