One Week

It had been one week since my body decided to fail me.

I’d told only a few people, but there was one person I had to tell. It wasn’t dread—it was like opening a door I’d hammered shut.

When I looked into his eyes and told him everything, I saw love and sorrow spilling over. His arms went around me, holding back, wanting to hold me tighter, longer, to comfort me without fear.

“I know it’s been a while,” Arthur murmured after releasing me, “but you want to go out tonight?”

“I’d really like that.”

“I’ll tell the guys,” he said. “They’ll be happy to see you.”

I gave him a small smile, wiping at my eyes, and went on with my day.

Wherever I went, I could feel his eyes on me. He was closed off with his feelings, but I could read him. Today, I didn’t want to.

At the pub, I waited for the friends I’d abandoned months ago. Belle came too, so I wouldn’t face everything alone.

The boys arrived, each already knowing my story through Arthur. Drinks came, snacks arrived, and soon we were laughing, crying, reminiscing.

“I hate that you disappeared,” James whispered.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I said, leaning on his shoulder. “I missed this.”

Arthur’s gaze found me, and I looked away, afraid liquid courage would make me ask the wrong questions.

“I love you how you love others,” Belle said, taking my hands. “You’re one of the most compassionate people I know.”

I smiled, squeezing her hands.

“Let’s keep it going,” James said. “Favorite traits about each other?”

We went around, sharing admiration and laughter, drinks spilling, memories growing louder.

Eventually, I stepped outside for a smoke. The air was sharp. He was there before I turned.

“When did you switch to vapes?” Arthur asked, settling beside me.

“One of the girls at my book club got me hooked. I don’t know why you’re surprised—you used to vape all the time. Now look at you.”

“At least have one with me,” he said. I sighed, set my vape aside, and took a cigarette. He lit it, eyes lingering on my lips.

“So,” I said, exhaling, “do you feel the vibe between James and Belle?”

“Oh, yes. Definitely.”

“I don’t think Belle would go for it—but there’s tension.”

Silence.

“How’s Vic?” he asked softly.

“Honestly? Hard to say. Long-distance is hard, and he’s not open with emotions.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret what?”

“Letting him join the military.”

“You and I both know I don’t let him do anything,” I said.

“I think he wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t okay with it,” he replied.

“I think he needed it. To prove he could, to do something bigger than this town.”

“Wow,” he muttered.

“Wow what?”

“Nothing. I’ve told you my regrets from my failed marriage—wishing I’d gone to the academy, staying behind, marrying my high school sweetheart.”

“Yeah…”

“Now, divorced in my thirties, I feel like I wasted my life. And it feels shitty, because I have three beautiful kids. But sometimes, all I ever was…was her husband. And that wasn’t enough.”

He sighed.

“But you…” His voice dropped. “…you’re the kind of wife most men would kill for.”

I blinked.

“I don’t—”

“You let Vic live his dreams. You don’t hold it against him. You have your own life, your friends. You found yourself even while married. That’s rare.”

“Years of therapy,” I said.

“I guess,” he muttered. “I just don’t know if I’ll ever have that with anyone.”

“You will. She’s out there.”

“But she’s not.”

The words confirmed months of suspicion.

“Arthur—”

“I don’t want to fuck up our friendship.”

“You’re not. There was never a season for us,” I said. “We met when you were married. I was your ex-wife’s friend. You helped my husband ask me out. There was never going to be an us.”

“You’re right. God, you’re right.”

He exhaled, a laugh hiding in it, trying to lighten a moment that refused to be light.

“I wish things were different,” he said.

I looked at the cigarette in my fingers. “I know. But wishing doesn’t change the truth.”

The patio light buzzed overhead. The night smelled like cheap beer, cold air, and honesty only found after midnight.

Arthur stubbed out his cigarette. “Guess we should head back in.”

“Yeah,” I said, but I didn’t move.

He pushed open the door, warm noise spilling out. Before stepping through, he paused. “For what it’s worth…you’re still one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

He didn’t wait for a response.

Maybe that was best, because I wasn’t sure what I would’ve said.

I looked at the sky—clouded, no stars—and let the cold settle through me.

One week since my body failed me.

One night of honesty I wasn’t ready for.

A thousand unanswered questions I wasn’t brave enough to ask.

I took a breath and went back inside anyway.