Something broke open in my chest, and cold air rushed straight through.
So his illness had been a lie. All of it.
Chester had punished himself with silence—a monument to the love he missed out on.
And he'd kept it from me—lied to my face every single night for three years.
I scrubbed the tears away and set the phone back exactly where I'd found it.
I pulled open the bottom drawer of the nightstand. Inside were all my professional certifications.
My fingertips traced the embossed lettering, and for a moment I saw myself again—standing at the front of a conference hall, commanding the room.
But just days ago I'd been nothing. A useless thing that couldn't even keep her own baby alive.
I dialed the number I knew by heart.
The call connected, and a strong, weathered voice came through.
"Georgina, is that you?"
I drew a deep breath and answered clearly. "Professor Bennett, I want to come back. Is there still a place for me?"
Silence on the other end, just for a beat, then unmistakable delight breaking through.
"Of course there is! My chief interpreter seat is open and waiting!"
After I hung up, I gathered my important documents together.