His company was sending him to a coastal city for a work retreat, and he wanted her to come with him. Just one week away from all of it. Away from his mother. Away from doctors. Away from the questions and disappointment. Just the two of them in a place where no one knew their story.
Linda hesitated. But Daniel took her face in his hands and said softly, “Linda, I love you because you’re you. Not because you can give me a child. Not because you’ve done anything for me. Just because you’re you. Come with me. Let me remind you of that.”
Something in her loosened. Something shut tight by pain cracked open.
So she went.
The drive to the coast took eight hours, and with every mile the landscape changed—suburbs, hills, cliffs, ocean—and something inside Linda changed too. By the time they reached the small resort, she felt lighter than she had in years. They had a balcony overlooking the sea, white sheets on the bed, fruit on the table, and time. So much time.
For four days, everything was beautiful.