The sun had barely begun to set, casting soft streaks of gold against the hospital's glass entrance. The shadows on the pavement stretched long and tired, like everything else in this place.
I was already halfway across the sidewalk when I saw him.
Mark.
Sitting alone on one of the benches near the courtyard, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. His posture was still straight, but there was a weight to it, like holding himself together had become a conscious effort.
I stopped walking, my fingers curling around the strap of my bag.
It was still strange, seeing him without preparation. Not in a hallway or beside Edward's bed. Just… there. Alone. Exposed in a way he never allowed himself to be.
I could've gone around. Entered through the main lobby and pretended I hadn't seen him. Saved us both the discomfort.
But my feet had other plans. Or maybe my heart did.
