Mark
I didn’t interrupt her. Not once.
I don’t think I could have even if I wanted to.
As Melody spoke, the world seemed to narrow until it was just the two of us in that booth—the low murmur of the restaurant fading into something distant and unimportant. I heard every word, but more than that, I felt them. They didn’t land gently. They landed like truth always does when it isn’t softened for comfort.
A patient came in today.
Pregnant.
Abuse.
Denial.
The words replayed in my mind as she spoke them, each one layering over the last. I’ve heard stories of violence my entire life. I’ve ordered it. I’ve stopped it. I’ve lived in the space where pain is currency and fear is leverage. But this—this was different. This wasn’t a story told for power or control. This was survival spoken qui
