Stephen
Sleep wouldn’t come.
I’d been lying in bed for what felt like hours, staring up at the ceiling while the city lights painted shifting patterns across our bedroom. Beside me, Laura slept peacefully, curled onto her side with one hand resting instinctively over her stomach.
She wasn’t showing yet.
If I didn’t already know she was pregnant, I never would’ve guessed.
The thought made me smile for half a second before reality settled over me again.
My father had cancer.
Even thinking the words made my chest tighten.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him standing in his loft pretending everything was fine. Then I’d see the orange prescription bottle sitting on the kitchen counter. I’d hear him telling me he was just tired.
He’d lied to my face.
Not because he didn’t trust me.
