THESSARA'S POV

The invitation sat on my kitchen counter for three days. White envelope. Simon's handwriting. Medical conference in Seattle.

I hadn't touched it.

Every time I walked past it, something twisted in my chest. Sharp. Like a warning.

My phone buzzed. Simon again.

*Did you get the invitation? The trauma response keynote is supposed to be groundbreaking. I would love to have you there.*

I stared at the message. Simon was kind. Brilliant. Normal.

Everything I pretended to ...