Weak.
Confused.
Listening.
Then I thought about the woman standing there.
“I’m glad I came.”
That was enough.
I did not need the hospital to become a place of triumph.
It was simply a place where something terrible had been interrupted
before it became final.
That truth was powerful enough.
And whenever I remembered Gregory whispering that in two days everything
would be theirs, I no longer heard prophecy.
I heard arrogance.
He believed my silence meant helplessness.
He believed illness erased authority.
He believed marriage gave him access to whatever I had built.
He believed a sleeping woman could not be listening.
He was wrong on every count.
