ISABELLE
The ride to my office after the hospital was quiet. The silence sat between us, thick and full — like we both had too much to say and had agreed, without saying so, to say none of it.
The appointment itself had been quick and clinical. A brief exam, a few questions about my cycle, and then the shot — a small pinch in my arm that would cover the next three months. More than enough for a trial period.
Did I regret it? Or was I simply already dreading the seven days I’d have to wait before feeling him bare again?
I didn’t know what the future looked like. I had no idea if we’d even survive the trial period. But I had never been more certain of what I wanted right now. And after Dave, I had made a decision — no more living for a future that might never come. Just this. Just now.
