Chương 2
Because he had a memory he did not want to open.
“I don’t know who left it.”
Rachel crossed her arms.
“That’s exactly why we should tell someone.”
“I didn’t say ignore it.”
“You just said no.”
Caleb rubbed his beard.
A habit Rachel remembered.
Whenever he was cornered, he touched the same patch of gray hair near his chin.
“You still do that,” she said.
“What?”
“That.”
He stopped.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Lily coughed.
Both parents immediately turned toward her.
The argument disappeared.
That was the cruel thing about having a sick child.
Every fight had to compete with fear.
A nurse entered a few minutes later carrying medication.
Her name tag said Emily.
She was one of the few nurses who did not treat Caleb like a problem to manage.
She glanced at the wig.
“Another one?”
Caleb pointed at it.
“This is a masterpiece.”
Emily smiled.
“It looks like something a magician loses before a show.”
“Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment.”
“I accepted it anyway.”
Emily checked Lily’s chart.
Then her eyes moved to the paper in Rachel’s hand.
The change was small.
Most people would have missed it.
Caleb did not.
Emily stopped moving for half a second.
“What is that?”
Rachel noticed too.
“You know something?”
Emily looked uncomfortable.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Caleb leaned forward.
“Emily.”
The nurse looked between them.
“I said I don’t know.”
But her voice had changed.
Lily watched her carefully.
Children noticed things adults thought they hid.
Caleb stood.
“Then why did you look scared?”
Emily opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
The hallway noise continued outside.
Someone laughed near the nurses’ station.
A machine beeped down the hall.
A man argued softly on his phone.
The world kept moving while the three adults stood still.
Finally Emily lowered her voice.
“There are things about Lily’s first day here that you were never told.”
Rachel’s face tightened.
“What things?”
Emily looked at Lily.
Then back at Caleb.
“I shouldn’t be the one telling you.”
Caleb stepped closer.
“Who should?”
Emily swallowed.
“Dr. Han.”
“Where is he?”
“He left two hours ago.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Caleb stared at her.
Emily looked away.
That was enough.
He had spent his life learning the difference between someone not knowing and someone being afraid to say they knew.
He picked up the folded note.
At the bottom, the ink looked slightly smudged.
Not old.
Not forgotten.
Fresh.
Someone had written it recently.
Someone inside the hospital.
Someone who knew Lily.
And someone who knew Caleb would come running if they gave him a reason.
The note stayed folded in Caleb’s hand long after Emily left the room.
He stared at the doorway where she had disappeared.
Rachel watched him.
“Don’t do that.”
Caleb looked over.
“Do what?”
“That thing where you decide you’re going to carry the whole world because nobody else seems willing.”
He looked down at Lily.
“I’m her father.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to destroy yourself.”
The words landed harder than Rachel probably intended.
Caleb turned away.
Six months ago, he might have argued.
He might have said something sharp.
He might have reminded her that she was the one who left first, that she was the one who said she needed space, that he was the one sleeping in a garage apartment because neither of them knew how to fix what had broken.
But now he only folded the note smaller.
Because the truth was, he was tired.
Not the kind of tired sleep could fix.
The kind that settled behind his eyes and made every decision feel like it weighed a hundred pounds.
“Dr. Han’s office,” he said.
Rachel shook her head.
“Caleb.”
“I’m not accusing anyone.”
“You’re already walking like you’re about to.”
He looked down at his boots.
She was right.
He had learned that walk when he was younger.
The walk before a fight.
The walk before someone got hurt.
His father used to call it the Mercer warning sign.
The shoulders went forward.
The jaw locked.
The world narrowed.
Caleb hated that Rachel could still recognize it.
“I’ll be careful,” he said.
She gave a tired laugh.
“You always say that right before you’re not careful.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
Almost a smile.
Almost.
Lily watched both of them.
“Are you two fighting?”
They immediately stopped.
“No,” Rachel said.
“Yes,” Caleb said at the same time.
Lily raised an eyebrow.
It was the first expression she had made all morning that looked completely like the old Lily.
Caleb sighed.
“Okay.”
Rachel looked at him.
“We’re having a disagreement.”
“That’s adult code for fighting.”
Caleb looked offended.
“Who taught you that?”
“You.”
He blinked.
Then he remembered.
A year earlier, Lily had heard him and Rachel arguing in the kitchen.
Afterward, she had asked why adults used so many words when they were angry.
Caleb had told her adults had a strange habit of fighting about one thing while actually being upset about five other things.
At the time, he thought he was being honest.
Now he wondered if he had accidentally taught his daughter too much about broken things.
Rachel sat beside Lily and adjusted the blanket.
“Your dad and I are just trying to figure something out.”
Lily looked at the folded paper.
“Is it about me?”
Caleb wanted to say no.
The easy answer.
The comforting answer.
But he had promised himself after diagnosis that he would stop lying to her just because the truth was uncomfortable.
“It’s connected to you.”
Lily swallowed.
“Did I do something?”
The question made Rachel’s face change.
Caleb felt something heavy settle in his chest.
“No.”
He moved closer.
“Never that.”
“Then why are people acting weird?”
Neither parent answered immediately.
That silence answered enough.
Lily looked toward the window.
“I hate when people whisper.”
Caleb sat down.
“I know.”
“They think I don’t hear them.”
May you like
“I know.”
“They talk like I’m not in the room.”
