I saw Sean. He hovered by the entryway, unsure of whether to step inside.
The nurse slipped out of the room, leaving us alone.
Sean laid a payment receipt on the table. "Your spot in the trial is locked in. The funds can't be reclaimed."
I glanced at the document. The payer was Sean, marked as an irrevocable gift.
Lowering the paper, I asked, "Is this supposed to earn my forgiveness?"
"That's not what I expected," he said calmly.
"Then why?"
"I want you to live well."
An uneasy quiet enveloped the room, disturbed only by the gentle whir of the pain relief pump. I leaned back, the now-familiar discomfort gnawing at my stomach.
Sean instinctively moved closer but halted himself.
"The meds are in the left drawer," I directed.
He swiftly retrieved the medication and water, passing t
