First Slow Break

The air felt heavier the next time they saw each other.

Emily was with Melvin again, but Lola could immediately tell something had changed. Emily’s skin had lost more color, her shoulders rounded inward, her breaths shallow. But it wasn’t just her. Melvin looked hollowed out, like he’d spent nights awake, pacing, crying, or both.

When they approached the desk, Emily smiled weakly. “Hi, Lola.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Lola said softly. “I love your scarf.”

“Melvin picked it,” Emily said, nudging him. “He’s getting pretty stylish for an exhausted man.”

Melvin rolled his eyes lightly. “She’s delusional.”

Lola’s heart squeezed. They still bantered, still cherished each other, but the undertone of goodbye lingered like a shadow behind every word.

As Lola checked them in, Emily suddenly said, “Mel, can you grab me a tea from the machine?

Melvin hesitated. “You sure you’re okay for a minute?”

Emily gave him a look that said she’d been giving him permission to breathe for weeks. “Five minutes won’t kill me. Go.”

Melvin shot Lola a glance, something unreadable, before leaving toward the waiting area.

Emily watched him go, then turned her tired eyes back to Lola.

“You care about him,” she said plainly.

Lola froze, breath caught in her throat. “Emily... I would never. ”

“It’s okay.” Emily smiled faintly. “I’m not blind.”

Lola’s eyes stung. “Nothing happened.”

“I know,” Emily said. “But feelings happen before actions. And he… he’s been lonely for a long time.”

Lola covered her mouth. “Emily, please don’t think…”

Emily shook her head. “He’s the love of my life, Lola. And the idea of him being alone after I’m gone makes me sick.” She paused, her eyes softening. “You’re kind. You’re gentle. You see him.”

Lola felt tears slide down her cheeks.

Emily reached out a fragile hand, and Lola instinctively took it.

“When I’m gone,” Emily whispered, “he deserves someone who can hold his heart gently. Someone who won’t run from his grief.”

Lola shook her head, crying harder. “Emily… don’t talk like that.”

“It’s reality,” she said. “And I made peace with it long ago.”

Lola squeezed her hand. “You’re still here.”

“For now,” Emily whispered.

Melvin returned then, carrying the tea. The moment broke apart instantly. Lola wiped her eyes quickly, and Emily mustered a tiny smile

“Got my tea?” Emily asked, voice steadier than her body.

“Yes, ma’am,” Melvin said softly, kissing the top of her head before setting the cup in her hands.

Lola excused herself back behind the counter, but her heart was trembling.

Later, after their appointment, Melvin wheeled Emily out first while Lola finished closing tasks. They were the last ones to leave the clinic.

Lola was locking up when she heard footsteps behind her.

“Lola.”

She turned to see Melvin standing there, frazzled, tired, vulnerable.

“Emily fell asleep in the car,” he said quietly. “I just… I didn’t want to leave without saying thank you.”

“For what?” Lola asked.

“For being here,” he said. “For caring.”

Lola’s breath hitched. “Of course I care.”

Something in his face cracked then, a fissure in the armor he’d been holding tightly.

He stepped closer. Too close.

“Melvin…” Lola whispered.

“I know I shouldn’t,” he breathed. “I know this is wrong.”

She should’ve stepped back.

She didn’t.

His hand lifted, brushing a tear from her cheek she hadn’t realized had fallen.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, voice trembling. “And I hate myself for it.”

Lola’s heart pounded. “You’re in pain. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“It makes me weak,” he murmured.

“No,” she whispered, placing a hand over his. “It makes you human.”

They stood there under the soft glow of the parking lot lights, the night holding its breath around them.

And then he leaned in.

Soft. Hesitant. Scared.

Their lips met like a question neither wanted to answer.

It was brief. Just a gentle press of longing and guilt and all the things they’d tried to bury.

When they parted, Lola inhaled sharply.

“We can’t,” she whipered.

“I know,” he said, voice breaking.

But the damage was already done.