A nurse in pink scrubs, crying.
A tall woman in a white coat, Dr. Osei, with her hand over her mouth.
And then, in front of me, a face.
He looked older than I’d imagined.
That was my first thought. Isn’t that strange? After all those years of tracing his face with my fingertips, I’d still imagined him young. The age he was when we met.
But the man sitting in front of me was in his late forties. Dark hair streaked with silver at the temples. Deep lines around his mouth. Brown eyes, rimmed with exhaustion and red from crying.
A crooked nose. Just like Ethan’s.
And a thin scar near his left eyebrow.
My breath caught.
That scar.
The memory slammed into me.
Not a memory I’d thought about in years. A memory I’d put away somewhere so deep I’d forgotten it was there.
