The door stood ajar. In the hallway, directly outside it, Andrew and David had stopped.
Margaret forgot how to breathe.
“David,” Andrew said quietly, “we need to talk.”
“I know,” David answered at once. “I know why you’re here.”
Andrew exhaled heavily. “The doctor told me the figure. The full amount. David… it’s insane.”
Margaret felt her pulse begin to race.
“It’s not insane,” David replied, his voice low but steady. “It’s Mom’s life.”
“David,” Andrew said, more firmly now, “she’s been sick for five years. Five. They gave her three. It’s already been five. And now it’s another treatment. More money. More hope. But how long does this go on?”
David didn’t respond.
Andrew pressed on. “You’re thirty-five. You’ve built a company. You’ve got your whole future ahead of you. That money could be invested. It could grow. It could build something real—something that creates life, not just delays death.”
A hot tear slid down Margaret’s cheek.
And then David said the words that made her heart stop.
The words she had longed to hear for five years.
And feared just as long.
“Andrew,” he said softly, and Margaret could hear the tremor in his voice, “you say she’s postponing death. I say she’s still living. And you… you don’t see it.”
Silence followed. A faint shuffle—someone shifting their weight. Probably Andrew stepping closer.
“What do you mean, I don’t see it?” Andrew asked, his voice lowered, edged with something sharp.
“It means you haven’t been here in three years,” David replied. “You don’t know who Mom is now. All you see are numbers. Five years. Three years. Costs. Procedures. But you don’t actually see her.”
“David, don’t lecture me—”
“I’m not lecturing you,” David cut in. Margaret heard the break in his voice. He was crying. “You have no idea what these five years have been like.”
Another pause. Margaret heard David draw in a slow, steadying breath.
“Andrew, Mom was always strong. Remember when Dad died? We were ten and eighteen. She didn’t fall apart. She didn’t complain. She worked. She fixed everything. She carried us both. She never asked anyone for help. Not once.”
Andrew said nothing.
“But these past five years…” David continued, more quietly now. “She didn’t become weaker. She became someone else. Someone I had never known before.”
“David, she’s sick—”
“I know she’s sick!” David’s voice rose, then wavered. “But she’s still alive. And in these five years, I’ve talked to her more than I did in the thirty before. Because now she isn’t that unbreakable woman who keeps everything locked inside. Now she’s afraid. She cries. She told me she’s scared of dying.”
Margaret closed her eyes, fighting the sob building in her chest.
“And for the first time in my life,” David went on, “I actually saw her. Not the machine who worked, cooked, cleaned, solved every problem. A person. A woman who’s frightened. Who loves. Who loves me.”
For a long moment, Andrew didn’t speak.
“David,” he said at last, his tone softened, “I love Mom too.”
“Then why aren’t you here?” David asked. “Why don’t you come?”
Andrew let out a long breath. “Because… because Erica—”
“Erica,” David interrupted bitterly. “Erica says it’s enough. That five years is enough. That this is throwing money away. And you… you listen to her.”
“David, Erica is my wife—”
“And Mom?” David shot back. “What is she to you?”