Hospitals had a way of holding memories hostage.
Larry didn’t have to close his eyes to remember the last time he sat in a room like this, waiting for a doctor to tell him if his body was betraying him.
The cold feel of the exam table under his hands. The way the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead. The sterile air that never quite masked the sharp bite of antiseptic.
It all felt the same.
Except this time, Lauren was here.
She sat in the chair beside him, curled into herself, knuckles white against the hem of her hoodie. She was trying to keep it together—for him.
Larry wanted to tell her to breathe, that it was fine, but the words stuck somewhere in his throat.
Because what if it wasn’t fine?
What if this was the moment everything crashed down again?
What if the cancer ca
