Without a word, she wiped the blood from her mouth and sat back on the bed. She picked up the book she’d been reading earlier, flipping through its pages as if nothing had happened.
***
An hour later, the book lay finished on her nightstand. Evelyn changed her clothes, grabbed her coat and left the house.
Her surgery was scheduled for the next morning—an operation she wasn’t sure she’d survive. Tonight was all she had left and she intended to use it to revisit the places that had once held meaning.
On her way out, she sent Christopher a single text:
[Goodbye.]
He didn’t reply. Of course, he wouldn’t. He was probably at the hospital, pacing anxiously over Charlotte.
As she trudged through the snow, Evelyn’s thoughts turned dark. For a fleeting moment, she wished Charlotte would die. If Charlotte were gone, there would be no need for the surgery tomorrow.
But the bitterness subsided almost as quickly as it had come. Evelyn let out a dry, humorless laugh. No, it’s better if she survives. I’m the one who should be gone, after all.
The pain in her legs made her stagger, but she kept moving, her footsteps slow and deliberate. Snowflakes fell gently around her, blanketing the city in silence.
***