Rain blurred the windows behind her, the city turning to streaks of amber and gray. She pressed her thumb against the sealed flap. “About telling you the whole truth.”

My stomach tightened. “About being sick?”

“Partly.” The word was too small for the weight it carried. “There’s something else. Something I should have told you before I signed those papers.”

I thought of money. Another diagnosis. A betrayal. Some secret she’d hidden because we were already too broken. My mind reached for ordinary fears because ordinary fears were easier than the look in her eyes.

“Tell me now,” I said.

She shook her head. “Not like this.”