One quiet evening, as we cuddled on the couch, I told Toby, “I can’t wait for our own place.” He smiled, squeezed my hand, and said, “Just need a bit more time—houses are crazy expensive.” I dreamed of a big kitchen, a backyard. “For a baby,” I added. He kissed my forehead. “We’ll get there.”
That Friday, Toby left for a work trip. I stayed behind and used the weekend to clean. While dusting a high shelf, I slipped and fell—hard. At the hospital, X-rays showed a leg fracture. I called Toby. He promised to come home soon, but I told him not to rush.
A nurse named Stephanie greeted me warmly. Over the next few days, she was kind and chatty. One night, she mentioned her boyfriend had recently gifted her a bracelet. The next day, I saw it on her wrist—a gold chain with a tiny engraved smiley face. I froze. That bracelet had been mine—lost weeks ago. Toby told me I’d misplaced it.
Trying to stay calm, I showed her a photo. “Is this your boyfriend?” Her silence said everything.
Some truths whisper before they scream. And sometimes, healing starts with seeing what was there all along.
