“Those too.”
I thought about it.
“Keep the dates and numbers Dr. Patel used in my medical record if they’re medically useful. Delete the photographs.”
He handed me the phone.
“No.”
He looked confused.
“You delete them.”
So he did.
One by one.
I watched my sleeping body disappear from the screen.
At first, I expected to feel violated all over again.
Instead, I felt something closer to grief.
Those photographs contained fear.
But they also contained seventeen years of a man misunderstanding love.
When the final image disappeared, Daniel closed the folder.
“Done.”
I nodded.
He hesitated.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you come back?”
I looked at him.
“Because leaving became something I knew I could do.”
He didn’t understand.
“At first, staying felt like obligation,” I explained. “Then I left. I learned I could support myself. Sleep alone. Make decisions alone. Survive your sadness.”
