The receptionist smiled politely.
“Name, please?”
“Emily Carter.”
She typed something into her computer.
“Dr. Kovacs will see you shortly.”
I nodded and took a seat.
The waiting room television played a morning talk show at low volume. Around me sat people of every age, each carrying invisible worries of their own.
A young mother bounced a restless toddler on her knee.
An elderly man studied a newspaper.
A teenager stared at his phone.
For a moment, I found comfort in the ordinary nature of it all.
Heartbreak has a way of making you feel like your pain is unique.
But sitting there reminded me that everyone carries something.
Loss.
Fear.
Regret.
Uncertainty.
No one escapes life untouched.
As I waited, my thoughts drifted backward.
Back to the beginning.
Back to the version of myself who first met Mark.
I was twenty-nine when we crossed paths at a charity fundraiser.
