After 8 yearsI took a deep breath, pondering over the coffee I should bring this time for Nia. After all, that was the payment for my weekly consultation—some caffeine and a little snack while we chatted in her office.Nia Braver wasn't just an old college friend; she was also a renowned psychiatrist at Jackson University Hospital, the same place where I now worked.After nearly seven years of intense studying, specializations, grueling residencies, and constant hardship, I stood there being something I never thought I'd become, but I had achieved it. I was a recognized pediatric oncologist, something I'd grown to love over time.After waiting in line for a while, I stopped in front of one of the girls working at the cash register."Give me two Americanos and two slices of lemon cake," I requested with a smile, handing over the money right away."Yes, ma'am," she nodded with a lovely smile before my loud cellphone in my lab coat pocket started ringing."Hello?" I answered grumpily, n

Upon arriving at the foster home, without even announcing my prolonged visit, my mother was the only one who welcomed me, slightly surprised to have me there in February.Contrary to my siblings, who excitedly shouted and hugged me.They embraced me and listened fascinated to the news of me staying there for a few months without an apparent reason. They didn't mind the news at all, so they ran off to play after asking for some alone time with my mother.After leaving my things in my room, I sat on one of the armchairs in the living room, where my mother remained silent, knitting what seemed to be another scarf, waiting for me to speak willingly without her having to interrogate me.She observed me for a few seconds, almost unable to believe that her eldest daughter was back. I could see in her eyes that she was forming countless mistaken ideas about my return. Unable to conceal it any longer, I burst into tears, clumsily telling her everything that had happened since we had returned to

He revved up that monstrous machine and shot me one last look before darting off into the distance toward the university, which, to be honest, wasn't too far away.I couldn't help but smile, remembering our ridiculous chat.Cody always knew how to change my mood; even when we argued, he managed to make me laugh.I looked at the beautiful roses, and a strange thought crossed my mind: how I wished I could take some to Jack's grave, but I knew that wouldn't be possible. Not unless I found Deborah or someone who could tell me where he was after so many years of not even knowing where his body was resting...I was in my office, going through my mail, and after opening letters and other meaningless things, I finally found another one of those mysterious notes—no sender, no signature, just a simple paper with a phrase made up of cut-out pieces from what seemed to be magazines.'I'll come for you soon.'I jumped, piling it up with the rest.They arrived once a week for over two years now. So

Finally, Friday arrived without any special hiccups, and feeling grateful like never before, I left the hospital early. Having successfully finished my shift for the week, I spent much of the afternoon lying in bed, sleeping until nightfall hinted that I should get ready for the big party before Nia arrived.I wasn't used to attending such events; something significant always seemed to prevent me from going. Yet there I was, ready to celebrate the start of a new year alongside colleagues and superiors from the hospital, unless an emergency arose, which I believed was unlikely that day.I adjusted my elegant dress, styled my hair in a simple way, applied natural makeup, and when I felt completely ready, I looked at myself one last time in the bathroom mirror.I had changed so much since Jack had died; I wasn't the same person inside or out. I had aged a bit; I no longer spent most of my time with a furrowed brow, smiled whenever I felt like it, and laughed without apparent reason.My

I couldn't enjoy the rest of the party at all, even when Jack had left after giving his speech and greeting a few acquaintances, especially me; I seemed to be his main target from the start.That argument kept tormenting me in my mind, chilling my blood.I tried to eat what was served, but I could barely take a bite; the urge to rush to the bathroom and vomit returned.Nia seemed even more distressed than me, as if I might faint at any moment."Let's go, Lucy," she repeated with concern. "You don't look good."But I stayed, thinking I could overcome it.Just as everyone got up to dance, Nia insisted we go back home. I wanted to drive, but my hands were shaking, my feet weren't cooperating, just like my thoughts.So, she took the trouble to be the driver, while I remained silent, gazing out the window, feeling the whirlwind of memories hit me harder each time.Seven years, seven damn years deceived, thinking it was my fault, blaming myself in solitude. How could Deborah have done that