Melody
I didn’t plan to say it when I did.
I didn’t rehearse it or test the words silently first the way I usually do when something matters. It just rose up in me—quiet, steady, undeniable—like truth finally deciding it had waited long enough.
“I want to take the chance.”
Mark looked at me then, really looked at me, as if he understood that what I was offering wasn’t casual or impulsive. My heart was pounding, but not in the frantic way it used to when fear drove my decisions. This felt different. Intentional. Chosen.
“I know it scares me,” I continued, my voice soft but sure. “And I know I don’t have any guarantees to offer. But you’re the first person who’s truly seen me—not just the doctor, not just the survivor, not just the woman who carries grief—but all of it. And I don’t want
