I wanted to laugh, but the sound wouldn't come. Was it truly work, or just another excuse? My answer came hours later when a coworker's live stream popped up on social media. Tristan's face, so familiar and once so comforting, now twisted the knife deeper. He was seated close to Anya, their heads bent together in private conversation. Every accidental brush of their hands sparked something electric between them, the kind of connection he used to share with me.
I thought I wanted to see again. In that moment, I almost wished for my blindness back. At least then, I wouldn't have to witness the truth.
But there was something more urgent I had to face. My footsteps echoed through the hospital's quiet corridors until I reached the obstetrics and gynecology department. The sterile air prickled at my skin as I sat in the waiting room, tears streaming silently down my cheeks. Hours passed before I finally made my way to the operating table.
"Are you certain you want to go through with this? The procedure carries risks, especially after all you've been through," the doctor said, her voice tinged with concern.