“You aren’t going to resent spending that much?”
He covered my hand with his.
“Lyla, you’ve lived in pain for years. This isn’t a vacation or some shopping spree. This is your health.”
Relief flooded through me.
I leaned across the table and hugged him.
For the first time in years, living without constant pain seemed possible.
The surgery went exactly as planned.
The first few days were difficult.
Every movement reminded me that my body had gone through something major. Sleeping comfortably was almost impossible, and I had to move carefully around my stitches.
But beneath the soreness was something I hadn’t felt in years.
Relief.
The heavy pressure across my shoulders was already disappearing.
When a nurse helped me stand and walk down the hallway, I realized I wasn’t instinctively hunching anymore.
“You look happy,” she said.
“I forgot what standing up without pain feels like.”
She laughed.
“I hear that more often than you’d think.”
By the time my doctor cleared me to recover at home, I felt like I had been given a second chance.
I couldn’t wait to exercise again.
I couldn’t wait to buy clothes because I liked them instead of choosing them around my body.
Most of all, I wanted to go home and celebrate with Gerald.
He texted me that morning.
“Can’t wait to have you home.”
“Love you.”
I smiled at the screen.
The drive home seemed shorter than usual.
I spent most of it imagining all the little things that would finally be easier.
When we reached the house, Gerald carried my overnight bag inside while I followed carefully.
Home.
I smiled.
“It feels so good to be back.”
Gerald shut the front door.
“We need to talk.”
Something in his voice stopped me.
I turned.
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