I sit alone in my car, staring at the steering wheel, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts, regrets, and what-ifs. Joanne’s words keep echoing in my head, her gentle wisdom somehow chipping away at the anger — and guilt — I’ve been holding onto.
“…Love, real love, is worth fighting for. Even when it’s messy.”
Could she be right? Could I really give Benedict another chance? After everything? Could he give me one, if I told him what happened with me and Alex?
I let out a shaky breath, glancing up at the hospital building in my rearview mirror. All my instincts tell me to stay away, to protect myself, but something stronger — a tiny glimmer of hope buried beneath all the hurt — pushes me forward.
I can’t ignore it anymore. I need to see him. I need to hear his side. And I need to come clean. If I don’t, I’ll always wonder what could have been, what I might have thrown away.
With a resolve I haven’t felt in days, I start the car, pulling away from the hospital and heading back to the cottage.
The drive feels long, each mile stretching out as my mind races with all the things I want to say to him. Apologies, accusations, confessions…all tangled up in a mess that I can’t quite sort out.
But I know one thing for sure: I have to tell him how I feel, whatever that may be. If there’s even a sliver of a chance that we can make things work, I need to take it.