Just conversation outside these walls.”
Richard’s hands trembled on the table. “I’ll do anything,” he said. That was my opening, and I took it.
“Then here are the terms,” I said, each word deliberate. “No more disappearing. No more secrets.
No rewriting the past to make you comfortable.”
Richard nodded, tears spilling over his cheeks. “Yes,” he whispered. “I swear.”
Kim helped with the practical pieces—forms and a reminder about returning before bedtime.
Richard insisted on walking with his cane, refusing the wheelchair. In the lobby, Marla spotted us and said nothing, only watched. Outside, cold air hit our faces, sharp and clean.
Richard paused on the threshold like someone stepping into a world he’d forgotten. He looked at Jordan, then at me. “Claire,” he said, voice trembling, “I won’t disappear again.”
I kept my spine straight.
“We’ll see,” I said, and the words felt like a boundary, not a punishment. For once, the next step belonged to me entirely.
