“I’m sick,” she said. “Late-stage cancer.”
Silence settled again, heavier this time.
“I didn’t come to take you,” she added quickly. “I came to thank her.” She glanced at me. “She gave you a life I couldn’t.”
Harris let out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh, but there was no humor in it.
“And you’ve been watching us?”
She lowered her eyes. “Yes. I was afraid. I thought she knew. I thought it wasn’t… hidden.”
Harris looked at the flowers.
“So the bouquets—what were they?”
“My apology,” she said. “And my gratitude. My last chance to say something without asking for anything back.”
His jaw tightened.
“You don’t get to drop this on me and say you want nothing.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I just… wanted you to know I loved you.”
He didn’t respond right away.
Then he glanced at me.
Not asking permission—just needing something steady.
“Not today,” he said finally. “I can’t… today.”
She nodded quickly, stepping back.
“I understand.”
She left the flowers.
And this time, she left slowly.
