I Prayed for a Miracle—Now I Lock My Door at Night

finished, she exhaled slowly.

“I’m glad you came,” she said.

I looked up.

“Does that mean…?” I whispered.

“It means you’re not imagining it,” she said. “And you’re not failing him by needing support. You’re failing both of you if you keep pretending this is sustainable.”

My throat tightened.

“But what do I do?” I asked, because that’s the question that haunts continue reading …