60
The morning light poured into the bedroom in soft gold, stretching across the hardwood floors and warming the edge of the bed. Amanda stood at the dresser, quietly buttoning her blouse, pausing every few seconds to glance over her shoulder.
Ericka was sitting on the edge of the bed, halfway through tying her scarf, staring blankly at the floor like her mind was somewhere miles away.
Amanda crossed the room slowly and knelt in front of her.
"Hey," she said gently, reaching up to adjust the scarf with steady fingers. "You're doing great."
Ericka blinked, her eyes finding Amanda's. "I feel like I'm going to throw up."
"That's fair." Amanda smiled softly. "But you won't. Because you're the bravest person I've ever met, and you've already made it through the hardest part."
"Easy for you to say," Ericka muttered, her voice shaky. "You're not the one getting poked and scanned and waited on like a lab rat."
Amanda's lips twitched, but she stayed patient. "True. But I am the one who's been sleep-deprived, answering emails with one hand and holding your ginger ale with the other."
Ericka snorted, just a little. It was exactly what Amanda hoped for.
"You ready?" Amanda asked, standing up and offering her hand.
Ericka hesitated, then slid her fingers into Amanda's and nodded.
The driver was already waiting out front. A sleek black car with tinted windows, the same one Amanda had on call for days like this — not flashy, just comfortable and quiet. She'd made sure of it.
They slid into the back seat, and Amanda gave the driver a polite nod before they started rolling.
For a while, the car was silent, the city rolling past them in a blur of soft colors and early traffic.
Then Ericka finally spoke, voice quiet.
"Did you ever... think this would be our life?"
Amanda turned to her, brow raised. "What, the cancer part or the driver with complimentary sparkling water?"
Ericka gave a weak laugh and reached for a bottle. "Both."
Amanda smiled. "Definitely didn't see the cancer part coming. But the rest? You and me? Yeah. I think I hoped for it."
Ericka looked out the window. "Even when I was being a complete nightmare when you first came on board?"
"Oh, especially then," Amanda teased. "There's nothing sexier than someone threatening to fire you with a PowerPoint presentation."
That made Ericka laugh harder, her fingers finally relaxing around the bottle.
Amanda leaned her head back against the seat. "Seriously though... I saw you. Even then. Not just the job title. Not the brand. I saw you."
Ericka went quiet for a moment, her eyes on the skyline as it flickered by.
"Sometimes I think that's what scared me the most," she whispered. "That you saw too much."
Amanda reached over and took her hand again, gently lacing their fingers together. "I didn't see too much, Ericka. I just saw enough to know I never wanted to look away."
The rest of the ride passed in silence, not the awkward kind — the kind that felt like an understanding, like something solid and unshaken.
When they pulled up to the medical building, Amanda helped Ericka out of the car, keeping a gentle hand on her back. Together, they moved through the familiar front doors and into the elevator, side by side.
The waiting room hadn't changed.
Same pale walls. Same hum of fluorescent lighting overhead. Same worn magazines scattered across the table — half of them dog-eared, a few crumpled. A muted TV mounted in the corner played a morning talk show no one was watching.
Ericka sat quietly in one of the chairs by the window, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She wore that soft black sweater and dark jeans, her scarf now acting more like armor than style. Her hair was neat, her face calm.
But Amanda knew better now. She could see the nerves in her posture, the way her foot tapped the floor, her jaw tight.
Amanda slid into the chair beside her, their knees brushing. She reached for her hand without asking this time. Ericka didn't pull away.
"You doing okay?" Amanda asked softly.
Ericka let out a long breath, staring out the window. "I'm not sure."
"That's okay," Amanda said. "You don't have to be."
A few minutes later, a nurse appeared and called Ericka's name. Amanda stood with her and followed closely behind, hand brushing her back in quiet support.
The hallway seemed longer than usual. Amanda counted each step like a heartbeat.
Inside the exam room, Ericka climbed up onto the table slowly. Amanda remained standing, arms folded but her posture open — like she was bracing herself for whatever came next.
When Dr. Roman finally entered, her presence was calm, grounding. She greeted them both with that familiar steady tone before running through the post-surgery checks. The incision looked clean. Healing was progressing. No complications.
Then she sat, file in hand.
"We're still waiting on the full pathology report," she said. "But preliminary results show clear margins."
Ericka blinked. "Meaning...?"
"It means the tumor was removed cleanly, and there are no immediate signs of cancerous cells remaining in the surrounding tissue. That's a strong outcome."
Amanda didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until that very second. She exhaled, slow and unsteady.
Ericka, always composed, simply nodded.
They discussed next steps — likely monitoring, maybe radiation depending on final results. But for now? It was good news.
Hopeful news.
On the way back down in the elevator, Amanda watched Ericka's reflection in the mirrored walls.
She looked like someone who'd just been told the ice was holding beneath her feet — but she wasn't ready to stop tiptoeing.
Back in the car, Amanda reached across the seat and took Ericka's hand again.
"You okay?"
"I think so," Ericka said after a long pause. "I think I need to lie down and not talk to anyone for about a week."
"I can clear your schedule for you," Amanda replied with a smile.
Ericka looked over at her. "You really would, wouldn't you?"
Amanda squeezed her hand. "In a heartbeat."
Ericka leaned her head against the window, eyes fluttering closed.
"I love you," she murmured, barely audible over the hum of the city.
Amanda turned to her, brushing a piece of hair from her face. "I love you too."
And this time, neither of them needed to pretend it was just the meds.