Call the hospital billing department — they have payment plans for men who are ready to take responsibility for themselves.”

I didn’t sleep. I paced the floor, crying until my eyes swelled shut and my throat went raw.

It felt unnatural. It felt like cutting off my own limb. But the next morning I walked out into the Parisian rain, bought an oil painting from a street artist, and realized with a shock that my chest felt lighter.

The limb was gone, but the infection had been cured.

Chapter 7 — The Homecoming

The silence I offered became the catalyst for real change. And it didn’t start with Austin. It started, of all people, with Chloe.