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 peppermint tea, honey sticks, a plain notebook, and the softest pair of socks I could find in a little gift store next door.
It felt ridiculous.
A man trying to make up for abandonment with tea and socks.
But I didn’t know what else to do.
When I returned to Sophie’s floor, visiting hours were almost over. Dr. Keller stood outside her room, speaking quietly to another doctor. He noticed the paper bag in my hand.
“She’s resting,” he said.
“I can leave these.”
He looked at the bag, then at me.
“Are you planning to stay involved?”
The question was careful but direct.
“I don’t know what she’ll allow,” I said. “But yes.”
