Vito sat beside my bed that first night after the surgery, his voice steady and gentle. "The anesthesia is wearing off. The pain is normal. Just rest , I'm not going anywhere." He meant it as comfort. I received it as a countdown.
Because the moment the idea of leaving took root in me, it never left. It grew quietly, filling every corner of my mind until there was no room for anything else. I thought about it when I woke up. I thought about it when he sat across from me at the table, watching me eat with that look in his eyes , deep and careful, like I was something precious that kept slipping through his hands.
