Simple gestures, carrying a fragile hope. Then, almost imperceptibly, something changed. One morning, she offered me a faint smile. That evening, she prepared my favorite dish, just like before. Little notes began to appear around the house, scribbled on scraps of paper: “Safe travels,” “Dinner at 7 p.m.,” “I love you.”
These gestures filled me with hope… and fear. Was it an attempt to pretend nothing had happened, or the beginning of a path I didn’t yet dare to consider?
A mystery growing in silence
Another detail intrigued me: she went out every week for what she simply called medical appointments. She spoke of them casually, as if it were perfectly normal. At first, I said nothing. Then the anxiety became too much.
