Page 51 of A Prescription to My Heart

Soren doesn’t argue. He just nods, standing too. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say more, but nothing comes out. His lips press together in a thin line, and I know exactly how he feels. We’re both in over our heads.

“We should go get dinner,” he says, the suggestion almost like an order, though he’s trying to mask it with a smile. “Marigold is at ballet. Roselyn will pick her up. It’s… been a long day.”

I weigh my options. I could stay here and continue unpacking, or I could leave the house, leave the weird tension between us. The idea of just escaping for a while sounds appealing, but I also know that I’m avoiding something.

“Fine,” I say, exhaling sharply. “I guess I could use a break.”

“Great.” He gives a small nod, clearly relieved. “Let’s go.”

We end up at a small, cozy restaurant down the street. It’s the kind of place where the air smells of garlic bread and fresh basil, and the buzz of conversation mingles with soft jazz music. The clinking of silverware and the sizzle of food being brought to tables fill the space, but the silence between us is still heavy.

We sit across from each other, the table feeling wider than it is, and for a moment, I can’t bring myself to say anything. Soren doesn’t speak either, his eyes scanning the menu, but I can tell he’s not really reading. He’s waiting for me to break the silence.

“Why do you think this is so hard?” I ask finally, the question slipping out before I can stop myself.

Soren looks up, eyes locking onto mine. There’s something in his gaze—almost like he’s trying to find the right words. “Because it’s not just about moving in, Talia. It’s about everything that’s happened. The past. What’s changed between us. The fact that we’re not the same people we were before all this.”

I’m taken aback by the raw honesty in his voice. It’s not what I expected from cold Dr. Soren Calloway. He’s always so guarded, closed off. But here he is, speaking openly about the things that have been swirling in my mind.

“Maybe,” I admit softly. “But I’m still here.”

He nods, his gaze softening. “And I’m glad for that.”

The wildest impulse to reach across the table and take his hand makes my palm itch, but I resist. I have to remind myself this is still Soren Calloway. It doesn’t matter how much uncertainty is between us. How much we haven’t said aloud.

“So what now?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Soren looks at me for a long moment, then finally answers. “We figure the rest out. Together.”

***

The house feels too quiet, too still, even though Soren and Marigold are somewhere in the back, probably in her room. I can hear the soft murmur of Soren’s voice as he reads to her. There’s something so gentle in the way he speaks in his home, so tender that it catches me off guard every time. I never even imagined Soren as the kind of man who would read stories to a child. Just another side of him that I can’t seem to ignore.

I’m standing in the kitchen, a glass of water in my hand, staring at the sink where I haven’t put away the dishes yet. It’s like my mind is moving faster than my body, trying to make sense of everything. There’s a weird pull I’m feeling every time I’m around Soren, a pull that I can’t explain.

I stand there, frozen, listening as he reads softly to Marigold. The words are distant, but the tone is so unlike the man I’ve seen in the hospital, or the one who’s walked into the room with that guarded, angry look in his eyes. Here, he’s something else entirely.Someonesofter.

I walk toward the door that leads to the hallway. Slowly, carefully. My feet don’t make a sound on the hardwood floor. I peek around the corner, barely able to breathe as I watch them. Marigold is curled up in her bed, her small hand holding the edge of her blanket, and Soren is sitting beside her, a picture book open in his hands.

He doesn’t even know I’m here.

His face is relaxed, his eyes glinting with warmth. A rare, devastating smile slips across his lips when he reads a funny part to Marigold—it’s so small, but it’s there. I don’t think he realizes how much of himself he lets out in that moment. It hits me like a wave, the realization of who Soren must’ve been before.

Soren wasn’t always this cold, this distant. He must’ve been someone else. Someone who laughed more, smiled more. His voice, that soft timbre as he reads aloud, it doesn’t match the unfeeling, calculated surgeon I’ve gotten to know over the past few weeks. And in that moment, I realize I’m not just living with a man who lost his wife. I’m living with the ghost of the man he used to be.

I want to turn away, to step back from this, but I can’t move. It’s like I’m stuck in place, frozen in this vulnerability I wasn’t prepared for. Soren’s presence fills the hallway.

And when his eyes meet mine, he doesn’t flinch. He just stops reading, like he expected me to be here at some point. It’s not like he’s embarrassed or anything. No, more like he’s waiting for me to acknowledge what’s between us.

The way I’ve been avoiding him, the way he’s kept me at arm’s length... it’s all in this moment. Soren looks at me, that rare smile still lingering at the corner of his lips, and in his eyes, there’s something different. Something sad. Almost resigned.

“Sorry,” I say before I even realize I’ve spoken. My heart is racing, and I have no idea what to say next. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Soren stands up from the chair, his long frame casting a shadow over the room. “It’s okay,” he says, voice low and steady. “Marigold’s asleep.”

I don’t know what to do with myself. I should leave. I should just walk away, but I’m frozen in the doorway, my mind still reeling from the glimpse of the man Soren used to be. It’s not fair. I wasn’t supposed to see this. I wasn’t supposed to care.

“I didn’t know you used to do this,” I murmur, trying to fill the silence.

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