MELODY
...

The week after my discharge is a blur of emotions. Relief. Excitement. Uncertainty. Everything feels lighter somehow, like I’ve been carrying this invisible weight for months, and now, it’s finally gone.

The first day I wake up without the thought of therapy hanging over my head, I lie in bed longer than usual, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out what to do with my day.

For weeks, every moment of my time has been mapped out—warm-ups, stretches, strength exercises, follow-ups with the doctors. My entire life revolved around getting better, and now that I am, I don’t know where to start.

The house is quiet when I finally get up, my footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors. Jeremiah is at Diane's or at work, I can't tell these days, and Stephanie… well, I’m not really sure where Stephanie is. Lately, it feels like she’s everywhere but here.

The thought makes my chest tighten, though I try to brush it off.

She’s busy, I remind myself. She has a demanding career, and it’s not like I can expect her to drop everything just because I’ve finally healed. But still, something feels different.

By the middle of the week, I can’t deny it anymore. Steph is avoiding me.

At first, I chalk it up to bad timing. She’s been staying later at the clinic, covering for coworkers, taking extra shifts, and handling last-minute emergencies. It’s noble, really—it’s the kind of person she is. But when I call her during her lunch break on Wednesday and she barely says two sentences before rushing off, I start to wonder if it’s something more.

On Thursday, I text her around noon: Hey, thinking of making pasta tonight. Want to join me?

Her response comes an hour later: Sorry, working late again. Rain check?

By Friday, I can’t ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. This isn’t just bad timing. She’s keeping her distance, and I don’t know why.

The worst part is, I don’t know how to bring it up. I don’t want to be that person—the needy one, the one who clings too hard and ruins the thing we have. But as much as I try to play it cool, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s shifted between us.

It all comes to a head that evening. I’m sitting on the couch, staring at the TV without really watching it, when I decide to call her. The phone rings twice before she picks up, her voice sounding distracted.

“Hey,” she says. “What’s up?”

“Are you still at work?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light.

“Yeah,” she replies. “It’s been a crazy day.”

“It’s been a crazy week,” I point out, leaning back against the cushions. “You’ve been at the clinic every day until, what, ten? Eleven?”

She lets out a soft sigh. “I know. I’m sorry, Mel. It’s just… there’s a lot going on right now, plus my research and..everything.”

I bite my lip, debating whether to push or let it go. Finally, I take a deep breath and say, “Are you avoiding me?”

There’s a pause on the other end, just long enough to make my stomach twist.

“What?” she says, her voice tight.

“I don’t know, it just feels like…” I trail off, unsure how to put it into words. “It feels like you’ve been keeping your distance.”

“Mel, that’s not fair,” she says, her tone defensive now. “I’ve been busy, okay? I’m not avoiding you.”

“Are you sure about that?” The words come out sharper than I intended, but I don’t take them back.

She sighs again, and I can almost picture her running a hand through her hair, trying to find the right thing to say.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” she says finally. “I’m doing my best here.”

“I’m not asking for much, Steph. I’m just asking you to be honest with me. If something’s wrong, just tell me.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she insists, but there’s an edge to her voice that makes me think otherwise.

We sit in silence for a moment, the tension hanging heavy between us.

“Can you come over when you’re done?” I ask quietly.

“Mel, it’s late—”

“Please,” I interrupt. “I just… I need to see you.”

There’s a long pause, and for a second, I think she’s going to say no. But then she sighs again and says, “Okay.”

“Thank you,” I say, relief washing over me.

She hangs up without another word, and I spend the next two hours trying to make sense of everything.

By the time Steph finally shows up, I’m a mess of nerves. She looks exhausted, her work clothes are  wrinkled and her hair is pulled into a loose ponytail.

But there’s something else, too—something in the way she avoids my gaze as she steps inside.

“Hey,” she says, setting her bag down by the door.

“Hey,” I reply, my voice soft.

We stand there for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say.

“Do you want something to drink?” I offer, gesturing toward the kitchen.

“No, I’m good,” she says, leaning back into the couch.

She asks about Jeremiah and I tell her, then silence falls between us.

I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” I begin, “but I feel like you’ve been pulling away. And I don’t know if it’s because of me or because of something else, but…” I trail off, searching her face for any sign of an answer.

“It’s not you,” she says quickly, her voice firm.

“Then what is it?”

She looks down, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I guess… I guess I’ve just been trying to give you space.”

“Space?” I echo, confused. “Why would I need space?”

Her eyes meet mine then, and I see something closer to fear in them.

“Because you’re okay now,” she says quietly. “You don’t need me anymore.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I’m too stunned to respond.

So this is what all this is about?

“Steph,” I say finally, shifting to sit next to her. “Just because I’m okay doesn’t mean I don’t need you. That’s not how this works.”

She shakes her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You say that now, but what happens when you realize you don’t need me at all? What happens when you leave?”

“Who said I’m leaving?”

She doesn’t answer, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“Stephanie,” I say, my voice firm. “Look at me.”

She does, reluctantly, and I take her hand in mine.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. “At least, not unless you tell me to.”

Her eyes search mine, like she’s trying to figure out if I mean it. Finally, she nods, her shoulders relaxing just slightly.

“Okay,” she says softly.

I pull her into a hug, wrapping my arms around her and holding her close. She melts into me, her head resting against my shoulder, and for the first time in days, I feel like things might actually be okay.

We don’t say much after that. We just sit on the couch, her hand in mine, the silence between us no longer scary.

She kisses my forehead and I think we are back on the normal track.