“Only about a year’s worth.”

He squeezed my hand.

He couldn’t speak much, and I didn’t need him to.

We stayed that way until the nurse said he needed to sleep.

In the hallway Vincent asked how he was doing.

I gave him exactly what I knew, no more.

It felt strange, after months of Callum’s evasions, to let a simple answer be enough: stable, recovering, waiting for results.

I drove home at dusk and found Sadie sitting with my sister at the table.