Page 51 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

I had my suspicions after Ashley mentioned it. But this all feels too real.

His voice fades as he explains something about EEGs, MRIs, and neurological referrals. It all buzzes around me, medical words mixing with the sound of my pulse rushing in my ears.

Epilepsy.

A word I can’t unhear.

Permanent.

Life-changing.

Not just something to shake off. Not something I can pretend away.

When Caleb finally asks about family history, I shake my head, mute and numb. He scribbles something down, says we’ll talk again after more tests, and slips out the door with the same quiet efficiency he walked in with.

And then it’s just me and Rhys.

The silence between us stretches, heavy and suffocating.

He leans forward again, hand still holding mine. “Ally…”

I turn my face away, tears threatening to slip past my lashes. “No. Don’t.”

His voice softens. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t say it’s going to be okay. Don’t promise me things you can’t control.”

He exhales through his nose, jaw clenching. “I wasn’t going to.”

I gesture weakly towards the wires and tubes. “This… This isn’t me. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“You’restill you,” he says fiercely. “You’re still Ally. The girl who back-talks waiters and swears at the TV during footy and steals half my food when she says she’s not hungry.”

I shake my head. “You don’t get it. If this is what I have—if this is my life now—it doesn’t just affect me. It changes everything. I’ll be the girl who seizes. The girl who scares people. I’ll never be just… me again.”

Rhys’s voice drops low. “You’ll always be you to me.”

I try to laugh, but it comes out broken. “For now. Until it gets worse. Until I become something you have to manage. Something you regret.”

He flinches like I’ve hit him. And then—quietly, steadily—he says it.

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air like something sacred.

And terrifying.

My eyes snap to his. “You don’t?—”

“Ido.” He leans closer, voice rough. “I love you. And I’m not walking away because you’re scared. Or sick. Or stubborn as hell. You don’t get to push me away to protect me. Ichoosethis. I choose you.”

Tears burn down my cheeks. “But I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not,” he says. “Not now. Not ever.”

I want to believe him.

God, I do.

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