There were nights when Callum slept while I watched the faint light from the street move across our bedroom ceiling.

I hated the thoughts that came when the house was quiet.

What if another scan changed everything?

What if his strength never returned?

What if the version of the future we were making room for remained out of reach?

For a while I told myself that worry was a private responsibility, something I should manage without disturbing him.

Then one night he woke and asked why I was still staring at the window.

I said I couldn’t sleep.