I froze.
I had not prepared anything.
Owen had.
He turned toward me.
The guests shifted.
I whispered, “What are you doing?”
He whispered back, “My condition had two parts.”
“You never said that.”
“I knew you’d argue.”
“That’s because you’re annoying.”
“Yes.”
Then he faced me fully.
His voice carried across the garden.
“Emily, I am supposed to be standing here as an actor.”
Murmurs moved through the guests.
My mother’s eyes widened.
Caleb sat forward.
Owen continued.
“That was the job. Show up. Wear the suit. Hold your hand. Give you one beautiful day after someone else made you feel disposable.”
My eyes filled.
“But I can’t act this.”
The garden went completely still.
Owen’s thumb brushed the back of my hand.
“I met you as a stranger who thought she was dying. And somehow, you were still worried about embarrassing your parents, wasting flowers, and whether it was selfish to want one day that illness didn’t own.”
A tear slid down my face.
“You were angry. You were stubborn. You were rude about my coffee.”
A small laugh moved through the crowd.
“It was terrible,” I whispered.
“It was coffee.”
“It was punishment.”
He smiled faintly.
Then his voice changed.
“I made you get a second opinion because I once loved someone who didn’t get one in time. My sister, Lucy, believed the first doctor, the first answer, the first locked door. By the time we pushed, it was too late.”
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