Helen and Thomas walked without direction until their feet ached and their bodies begged for rest. They sat on a bench near the old town square, watching parents chase laughing children, watching grandparents lift toddlers into their arms. Helen felt as though she were watching a life she once lived but no longer belonged to her.
“Do you remember when Mark broke his leg,” Helen whispered. “You carried him all the way to the clinic.”
Thomas nodded, his throat tightening as memories surfaced. He remembered every fever, every sleepless night, every quiet sacrifice that never came with expectations.
As evening approached, they wandered beyond the edge of town, where roads narrowed and trees closed in. Helen felt exhaustion settle deep into her bones.
“There,” Thomas said gently, pointing toward a wooded slope. “Let us rest somewhere quiet.”
The climb was slow and difficult. Loose soil shifted beneath their feet, and Helen leaned heavily on Thomas, who refused to complain even as his breathing grew strained. Near the top, Helen stopped abruptly.
“Thomas,” she whispered. “Look.”