Marlowe
The doctor's question hung over the family gathered in Dorian's hospital room for a long, uncomfortable moment before anyone found the nerve to actually respond to it directly.
"I don't think we ever defined it," I admitted finally, understanding the truth of it even as I said it. "We just kept telling him to slow down. Vaguely. Like the message would somehow translate itself into something actionable on its own."
"That's not entirely fair to any of us," Marla said, though her voice carried more exhaustion than actual defensiveness. "We've tried. We've had this conversation more times than I can count."
"Had the conversation, yes. Defined the actual terms, no." The doctor's gaze moved to Dorian, still pale against the pillows but alert enough now to follow the exchange. "Mr. Ca
