(Rebecca's POV)
I peel the tape off the IV. It bites — adhesive taking a thin layer of skin, the needle sliding free, a small bead of blood welling up. I press my thumb over it. Swing my legs to the floor.
Eric is already standing. He doesn't offer his hand. He doesn't tell me to rest. He doesn't say are you sure you're ready. He picks up his keys from the nightstand and waits the way he always waits — present, ready, not deciding for me.
I pull his jacket tighter around my shoulders. Too big. The sleeves hang past my wrists.
Connie grabs her bag from the hallway. The zipper goes — fast, efficient. A woman who keeps her briefcase packed the way a soldier keeps boots by the door.
We move to the elevator. Eric on my left. Connie on my right. My thumb still pressed over the bead of bloo
