Eliza’s gratitude
Eliza lay in that hospital bed, fragile and frightened, her voice barely a whisper as she said, “Thank you.” She couldn’t meet my eyes, and there was something in her unease that struck me as off. I tried to reassure her, but the hesitation in her voice lingered, leaving a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. She was hiding something—something that ate at my trust. Yet, I pushed those thoughts aside, determined to focus on one thing: I could help her.
Eliza’s Gratitude
Eliza’s increasing distance
Days blurred together as hospital visits became routine. Despite my constant reassurances, Eliza became more withdrawn. She avoided eye contact, and the laughter that once filled our conversations was replaced by an unsettling silence. With each passing day, the gap between us seemed to grow wider. It felt like she was hiding something—a secret she couldn’t bring herself to share. Her increasing secrecy only deepened my worry, making me question what she was concealing.
Eliza’s Increasing Distance
