I won't see her again.

Not in the hospital.

Not after we return to the apartment.

His security team makes sure of it.

He stays.

Not for a night.

Not for a visit.

He moved in.

At first, it was quiet.

Awkward.

He takes the guest room.

Hecooked sometimes.

He worked in silence, laptop open beside the couch, glancing at me every so often like he was trying to memorize something he forgot.

I pretend not to notice.

I tried to rest.

The doctor’s orders were strict—no ...