“Miya,” he said firmly, grounding me with his voice, “you still have me. And I’m not letting you face this alone. Not now, not ever.”
Tears streamed down my face as he continued. “Come to me. I’ll get you out of that house. I’ll make sure you disappear if that’s what you need.”
Then he hesitated, his tone softening. “There’s something else you need to know. I didn’t want to tell you like this.”
“What?” I asked, wiping my face.
“Our hospital is starting a clinical trial,” he said carefully. “A new treatment for brain cancer. It’s risky, but it might actually work. It’s your best shot.”
My whole body went still. “You… you knew?”
“I suspected,” he admitted. “I saw your records. I knew you were fighting this by yourself.”
My chest hurt in a different way then. Not sharp. Just heavy.
“Come to me,” he said gently. “Let me help you. With the treatment. With leaving. With everything.”
I gripped the phone, my heart racing. For the first time in a long while, there was a door open in front of me.
“I’m coming,” I said quietly. “I’m coming, Lancelot.”
The house was silent. Not peaceful silence. The kind that screams at you.