Celeste

Sometimes I still think about that hospital door.

The way it shut between us. The way my heart stopped breathing before my lungs did. The way I thought love might end before it even had the chance to begin.

But love did not end there. It fought. It survived. And so did we.

Two years later

I graduated at the top of my class. For years, I believed my hands were meant for medicine. I wanted to be a doctor; I wanted to heal people to prove that my life, despite its chaotic beginning, ...