Page 62 of The One Who Changed Everything

She finally looked at me, her expression unreadable. The fluorescent light above us flickered once, casting fleeting shadows across her face. I waited, letting the silence stretch between us, heavy but honest. If she needed space to process, I’d give it to her. After all, I owed her that—and so much more.

"How can you be sure?" she asked, her voice quiet but steady. There was no accusation in it, just curiosity laced with a cautious edge. "What if he tries? What’s changed?"

"Everything," I said simply. "Me. I’ve changed."

Her brows drew together, creating a delicate crease between them. I wanted to reach out, smooth it away, but I kept my hands where they were. "I can’t undo the past," I added, my voice dropping to a near whisper. "But I can promise you this: I’m here now. For you, for Sophia. No one—not my father, not anyone—is going to come between us again. Not unless I’m dead and buried."

The corner of her mouth twitched—just barely, but it was enough to send a ripple of relief through me. "That’s a little dramatic," she murmured, finally meeting my gaze fully.

"Yeah, well, I’ve been told I have a flair for theatrics," I replied, cracking a small smile. It felt strange, unfamiliar, but good. Like sunlight breaking through clouds you’d forgotten could part.

Samantha exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. Her guarded expression loosened, though the walls she’d built so carefully over the years hadn’t crumbled entirely. I didn’t expect them to; I’d spent too long contributing to their construction. Still, there was a shift—a glimmer of something I hadn’t dared hope for.

"Okay," she said after a long pause. Just one word, spoken softly, but it carried the weight of a thousand conversations we hadn’t had and the possibility of the ones we still could.

"Okay?" I echoed, leaning back in my chair, giving her the space I knew she needed.

"Okay," she repeated, her tone firmer this time. A small nod accompanied the word, and though her lips didn’t quite curve into a smile, there was a warmth in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

I stared up at the ceiling tiles. They were dotted with tiny holes, arranged in patterns that didn’t quite make sense. My fingers found the small cross pendant hanging around my neck—something I hadn’t worn in years until recently. Closing my eyes, I let the sounds of the hospital fade into the background.

I prayed for Sophia’s safety during the surgery, trusting the Lord with a depth of peace I hadn’t known in years. I didn’t try to bargain or justify. I just let the prayer settle, releasing it into the unknown.

When I opened my eyes, Samantha was watching me. She didn’t say anything, but there was something in her expression—a flicker of understanding, maybe—that made me feel less alone in that moment.

I paced so much the soles of my boots were probably wearing tracks into the linoleum. Every time I passed the window, I glanced out at the parking lot below, the endless rows of cars shimmering under the afternoon sun. It was a painfully ordinary scene, completely at odds with the storm twisting inside me.

Then the door opened and the doctor walked in—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor—it felt like the air got sucked out of the room for a moment, and I stopped mid-step, my pulse thundering loud enough to drown out everything else. Samantha stood from her chair across the room, her hand gripping the armrest as if it were the only thing keeping her steady.

"She’s doing great," the doctor said, her voice even, calm. "The procedure went exactly as planned. The ICD is in place, and she’s already waking up in recovery."

I didn’t realize how tightly I’d been holding onto my breath until it came rushing out all at once. Relief hit me like a wave, nearly knocking me off balance. My knees wobbled, and I sat down hard in the nearest chair, dragging my hands over my face. "Thank God," I muttered, half to myself, half to the universe.

"Can we see her?" Samantha asked, her voice trembling just slightly.

"Not quite yet," the doctor replied gently. "Give us about thirty minutes, and someone will come get you."

"Thank you," Samantha said, her voice steadier now, though I could see the faint sheen of tears glistening in her eyes. She turned toward me, folding her arms across her chest. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said, though my throat felt tight, like everything I’d been holding back wanted to spill out all at once. "Yeah, I’m good." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "She’s gonna be okay. That’s all that matters."

The truth was, I wasn’t sure how to describe what I was feeling. It wasn’t just relief—it was something deeper, something that settled into the cracks I hadn’t even realized were still there. For so long, I’d felt like I was running uphill, trying to prove I could be the kind of man they deserved—someone they could rely on, trust. And now, for the first time, it felt like I’d finally reached solid ground.

CHAPTER 25

Samantha

Sophia was released from the hospital the same day her implant was inserted, with instructions to keep an eye on the small incision and to take it easy. The first evening home, I was halfway through a chapter of my latest book, listening with one ear as she and Evan played cards at the kitchen table.

“Are you teaching our daughter how to play poker?” I admonished with a laugh.

Evan’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “Of course not!”

I scowled at him. “She’s only thirteen, Evan.”

“We’re playing Rummy, Mom,” came Sophia’s sassy reply.

I glared at Evan, catching the playful expression there. He’d tricked me. I tossed a piece of popcorn at him. “Rude.”

---