“They said it’s manageable,” she said. “That’s the word everyone likes. Manageable. As if it’s a spreadsheet.”
Taylor came back to the chair and sat again, slower this time. “Tell me.”
She laughed once, bitter and exhausted. “Why? So you can save me?”
His mouth tightened. “Why does every question from me sound like an insult to you?”
“Because men like you only get curious when something becomes expensive.”
He absorbed that without flinching, which somehow made it worse.
Maya let her head sink back into the pillow. “Eight months ago I got diagnosed. Severe hypertension. Early heart disease. Too much strain for too long. Too much weight. Too much stress. Too much pretending I was fine. They put me on medication. They told me if I changed everything, I could stabilize it, maybe reverse part of it. If I didn’t…” She stopped.
Taylor’s hand opened slightly on his thigh. “If you didn’t?”
