“She will.”
I shake my head, not because I disagree but because I don’t know how to believe in something that’s not already here. “And if she doesn’t? What if I stay here and all I do is scare her? What if I’m the thing that makes everything worse?”
Charlotte doesn’t answer. And maybe that silence is worse than anything she could’ve said.
“I’m going to get some air,” I murmur, and I don’t wait for her to stop me. I just walk out.
The second I step outside, the cold air hits me like a slap. I drop onto the bench just outside the hospital doors and lean forward, elbows on my knees, trying to breathe through the weight pressing against my chest.
She didn’t remember me.
I told myself I was prepared for that, that it was always a possibility. But nothing about this feels okay. The image o
