Page 75 of Better as It

The nurse waves us over with a warm smile. “Mr. Miller. Last round.”

He nods.

I squeeze his hand.

He squeezes back.

He doesn’t need to say anything. I already know.

This has been the longest fight of his life.

And it’s not over yet. But today is a win.

The treatment ends fast. They unhook him. Pull the needle. Bandage the skin. Then the nurse gestures to the gold bell on the wall.

“The floor’s yours, Mr. Miller.”

Toon stands. Walks up to the bell.

I hold my breath.

And when he rings it—three loud, clear chimes—I nearly cry.

He turns, eyes locking with mine.

There’s a half-smile on his face, the kind that says I made it, but I’m still not sure how.

I stand with Benjamin and kiss him hard in front of the entire damn waiting room.

They all clap.

But I don’t hear them.

All I hear is the sound of hope cracking open inside me.

We settle in at home. Toon’s passed out on the couch, one arm over his face, the other cradling a bottle of Gatorade. Benjamin’s in his bassinet in the nursery, breathing deep and steady.

I’m sitting on the edge of our bed, hands clasped, heart racing.

I should feel safe.

But I don’t.

I feel terrified.

Because for the first time since Benji died, since Toon got sick, since my body split open to bring our baby into the world... I have everything I ever wanted.

And some part of me doesn’t believe I’m allowed to keep it.

I curl my arms around my stomach—empty now, but still stretched and soft from the life it carried just a couple of months ago.

I hear the floor creak.

Toon steps into our room, rubbing his neck. He gives me a crooked smile. “Sorry I passed out.”

I try to smile back.

He notices. Of course he does.

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