Chapter 2 - The Box in the Closet
Over the next few shifts, I watched Julian from a distance, unable to bring myself to say anything. He never left that room for long — fetching ice chips, adjusting pillows, reading aloud from a worn paperback while his daughter stared at the ceiling.
"You need to eat something, sweetheart," he told her one afternoon.
"I'm not hungry, Dad."
"The doctor said—"
"I know what the doctor said."
I stood in the hallway pretending to organize the cart, the old ache rising in my chest. He still smiled at her every single time. The same stubborn, gentle smile I remembered from when we were fifteen.
May you like
That night I went home and knelt in front of my closet. Behind the winter coats was the old box where I'd kept the few things I couldn't bear to lose after high school. The first thing I saw was the wig. What I needed was underneath it.
I put the wig on my lap and stared at what lay beneath. I thought Julian would recognize it instantly. I never could have anticipated the effect it would actually have on him.
