— For now, I’m managing, Mike! — She adjusted her glasses and took a deep breath that cost her a colossal effort. — Go to Alice! Don’t ruin the child’s morning with my lack of sleep!
She left the house, feeling his heavy, worried gaze on her back. Mike didn’t understand that her “for now” wasn’t about momentary fatigue. It was a countdown. Every “yes” was a moment stolen from death, a moment she wanted to spend ensuring that these people and this gray cat would have a tomorrow.
In the car, she closed her eyes. The darkness behind her eyelids was thick and sticky.
— To the office, Frank! — she whispered. — And turn on the radio! Something lively! Please!
The winter outside the mansion grew heavier, the gray sky lower. Eleanor saw how Alice bundled up in a scratchy sweater and how Mike, despite his new job, still flinched at every sharp ring of the doorbell. The shadows of the past don’t fade quickly; they hide in corners, waiting for a chance to cast their chill again.
Eleanor knew what they needed: sun. Real, fierce sun that would burn the memory of damp basements and the icy park wind out of them. And maybe she needed that sun herself, to warm up before the long, endless darkness.
Preparing for the trip turned into a small drama. Alice, upon learning the cats couldn’t come on the plane, staged a full-blown protest. She locked herself in her room, clutching Luna and all five kittens, who had already grown into feisty, furry teenagers.
— We’re not going! — Alice cried through her tears when Eleanor came in. — Luna will be sad, she’ll think we abandoned her again, like in the box!
Eleanor slowly sat on the edge of the bed. Every such movement was a struggle, but she kept her back straight.
— Listen to me, Alice. Look at Luna.
The girl sniffled and looked at the gray cat. Luna lay calmly, her eyes half-closed, purring steadily as the kittens scrambled over her back.
— She’s a very wise cat, — Eleanor said softly. — She knows you’ll be back. Susan has already bought her the tastiest pâté and new toys for the little ones. Luna will be in charge of the house while we’re away.
— And when we come back…? — Alice wiped her nose on her sleeve.
— We’ll build them a house. Right in our garden, under the big linden tree. A real cottage for cats, with big windows and a heated floor. So they can play in the sun and always have a home of their own. I promise you.
The girl froze. The image of a fairy-tale cottage for her beloved Luna worked like magic. She gently let go of the cat and hugged Eleanor.
— You promise? Cross your heart?
— Cross my heart. — Eleanor kissed the top of her head, feeling an unbearable tenderness squeeze her insides.
The airport in Nassau greeted them with a thick, humid heat, smelling of salt and spice. For Alice and Mike, it was another world. A different reality where survival wasn’t the main objective.
Sitting on the hotel terrace, Eleanor watched Alice run along the water’s edge. The girl was like a small, free bird. She laughed—loudly, joyfully, a sound that drowned out the waves. She built sandcastles, brought Eleanor magical seashells, and for the first time in a long time, looked simply like a child, not a little adult with sad eyes.
Mike stood a little way off, knee-deep in the water. The sea breeze ruffled his hair, and a tan was settling on his face, erasing the traces of exhaustion. He turned and looked at Eleanor. His gaze no longer held the timid gratitude of a subordinate. There was something else there. Deep, unsettling, and infinitely warm.
Eleanor sat in the shade of a large umbrella, letting the warm wind wash over her face. Her head still ached, but here, under the blazing sun, the pain felt muted, unreal. She could taste life: in the juice of a ripe mango, in the cries of gulls, in the feel of hot sand under her bare feet.
“This is my farewell gift,” she thought, looking at Mike and Alice. “My redemption.”
In the evening, as the sun began to slowly sink into the turquoise sea, Mike approached her lounge chair. He sat down on the sand beside her.
— You’ve given us a fairy tale, Eleanor, — he said quietly.
— Life should be a fairy tale, Mike. We just often forget the magic words.
Mike was silent for a long time, gazing at the horizon. Then he turned his eyes to her. They were very close—dark, honest.
— You’ve changed here, — he said. — You seem more… real. But I can see you’re hiding something. I can feel it.
Eleanor forced a small laugh.
— It’s just the sun, Mike. It makes you relax.
But he didn’t look away. He looked at her as if he wanted to protect her from the whole world, including her own secret. Eleanor felt a chill run down her spine, despite the heat. She wanted to tell him everything. About the white envelope, the glioblastoma, about how her time was melting away like an ice cube in a glass of whiskey. But she remained silent.
— Let’s go get dinner, — she said, getting up. — Alice must be hungry by now.
Mike offered her his hand. His palm was hot and firm. In that moment, Eleanor knew that behind this false calm, behind this bright Caribbean paradise, storm clouds were already gathering. And that the cruelest blow of fate was yet to come.
The last evening in the Bahamas was thick with the heavy, sweet scent of jasmine and salt. The sea below breathed slowly, like a great beast, casting lazy, phosphorescent waves onto the shore. Eleanor stood on the hotel’s flat roof, gazing into the inky void of the horizon. Her head was buzzing—the familiar, dull ache was now almost constant, but here, under the dome of southern stars, it seemed part of the universal hum.
She heard soft footsteps behind her. Mike. She would have recognized that walk anywhere—firm, but now free of the broken, shuffling weight he’d had when he first entered her home.
— Alice is asleep, — he said quietly, coming closer. — She dreamed that Luna’s new house has a real little porch. She was smiling in her sleep.
Eleanor didn’t turn, continuing to watch the sea.
— Children get used to good things quickly. It’s their superpower.
Mike stood beside her, leaning his hands on the parapet. His tanned fingers nervously tapped the concrete edge. He was silent for a long time, gathering his courage, and Eleanor could feel the air between them begin to tremble with unspoken words.
— Eleanor…
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