Sophie followed the gurney, of course, never letting me out of sight.
But something inside me had shifted.
For the first time in months, I wasn’t waiting for her next command.
I was waiting for what came next.
The scan room was cold, sterile.
The machine hummed as they positioned me.
I noticed the nurse again, standing near the door—not just watching, but guarding.
Outside, Sophie paced, texting quickly—likely Daniel—her movements sharper now.
I closed my eyes.
If the nurse had already called, then everything had already begun.
And Sophie didn’t know.
When they brought me back, the atmosphere had changed.
Subtle.
But undeniable.
Sophie looked up immediately, searching my face for fear.
What she found instead made her hesitate.
Calm.
“Are you alright, Mom?” she asked carefully.
“I’m fine,” I said.
And for once, it was true.
Time passed.
Too long.
Sophie grew restless.
“How much longer is this going to take?” she snapped.
“They’ll be with you shortly,” someone replied.
But the tone had changed.
Measured.
Alert.
Sophie turned back to me, her smile strained.
“What did you tell them?” she asked quietly.
I met her eyes.
And said nothing.
Her fingers tightened against the bed.