It was late. All the lights in the condo had long been extinguished. The soft sound of the faucet dripping echoed in the empty home of Dr. and Mrs. James and Sophia Wilson. It was peaceful.
In the bedroom, the soft breath of the woman wrapped beneath the thick comforter filled the air. She was fast asleep in the huge king bed, her black tresses curling about her freshly washed face. Though she was deep in slumber, something seemed amiss.
This scene would normally have been complete with the strong arms of her oncologist husband holding her, his own breath against her neck, warm and comforting. However, this night, like many of the past nights, Mrs. Wilson slept alone. She did not smile tranquillity in her sleep, instead, looking fearful, her face lined with worry. Her fears were well placed. Four months ago, the love of her life had been handed a death sentence in the form of a medical diagnosis. Stage II Thyoma. Cancer.
He had tried an aggressive course of chemotherapy that had not succeeded. Facing death, he had decided he would live out the remainder of his life without the pain of treatment.
Good things had happened since then. James had married Sophia Sharp, they had had a beautiful honeymoon in Hawaii. It had been one of the best months of Sofia's life. But when they returned, she had agreed to let him go. He had gotten on a motorcycle and ridden into the sunset with his best friend Dr. Gregory House. He swore when things got bad, they would both come back.
She had not wanted him to go, but she knew spending time with House, who was now presumed dead and therefore couldn't just stick around, was important to James. Of course, they texted. He sent her pictures of his and House's travels and escapades on the open road. House himself was responsible for sending her half of them. But she did not call him or bother him, knowing, even when his health declined, she would still have time with him. So she would await his return.
And so she had. She lay, asleep in the bed they had shared, awaiting the call that would reunite her with her husband, and, inevitably, mark their last minutes together.
It was then, in the bitter sweet silence, the sharp ringtone of her mobile phone cut through the darkness. Sophia's eyes snapped open.
Without a moment's hesitation, the phone was to her ear, barely glancing at the name. "Hello?"
"Hello Sophia."
Instantly, tears swelled in her eyes. The sound of her husband's voice released the dam that had walled off her pain and emotions, feeling them rush forth. "James…" she whispered, fighting to keep her tone even "Has it been two months already?"
It was almost as if she could hear him smile. "It would seem so." He returned, tone light but with seriousness hidden beneath.
Sophia bite her lip, the tears still flowing. "Saw the pictures. That leather jacket looks incredible on you." She teased, unable to hide a small sniffle.
"I'll have to model it in private when I get home." He responded.
Silence. Though it had been a joke, the indication of him returning home meant…
"Sophia…" James' voice had turned very grave "It's time."
A small sob escaped the woman's throat. "How bad?" She asked meekly, her strength leaving her.
"I'm not well enough for the bike anymore." He admitted, a slight pain apparent in his words "House and I are flying back in the morning."
Sophia didn't answer. Her heart was bursting, shattering. It had been easy to live in the moment, pretend this was just a cruel joke. Up until now. "I know it's inconvenient but, would you be able to pick us up from the airport? I don't feel comfortable taking House on local transport."
"Of course. I'll send Brenda a text in the morning to get one of the interns to watch the phones for the day."
She would have insisted on getting him anyway. As soon as he was back, she had no plans to leave his side again. "Thank you, sweetheart." James' voice was genuine and warm.
Sophia felt her heart swell. She could not begin to elaborate in words on just how much she adored this man. "I...I miss you so much…"
Fresh hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She heard the sound of a throat clearing. But when her husband's voice returned, he had not been triumphant in choking back his own tears. "I miss you too." He choked.
Sophia burst into sobs. "I'm...s-sorry James…" She apologized, guilt flooding her "I...promised…"
"Don't you apologize to me." James said through gritted teeth "You've been stronger then I could have...ever asked for…"
Sophia's sobs grew stronger. She could hear James' own weak sniffles. After a minute of crying, Sophia regained herself enough to stifle herself. A moment of silence. "At least I can finally kiss you again tomorrow." She chuckled faintly, throwing a weak positive.
His soft chortle lifted her spirits a bit. "I can't wait…" he began, making himself laugh harder "...to hold you again. And sleep in my own bed! House is not very good at being the little spoon."
Sophia laughed lightly, still choking back her sadness. "What time?"
"Eight. Assuming House makes it through security without getting busted."
"So...ten then?" She joked, knowing House was likely to make some kind of issue.
"Probably a safe bet." Wilson responded, the faintest trace of exasperation in his voice.
"Okay, I'll be there."
She knew the conversation was closing. Before she could speak, James did. "I love you, Sophia."
Sophia smiled, feeling the water works welling back up. "I love you too, James." She whispered.
The two were silent. James cleared his throat. "I should get back to the room. House seems to be harassing the maid."
"Of course. Get some sleep." She urged "If you think you get to rest tomorrow when it's the first time I've seen my husband since the honeymoon, you're crazy."
Wilson laughed. "Oh, I'm looking forward to it."
Another moment of silence. "Good night, Sophia."
A sad sigh. "Good night, James."
A soft click. The line was dead. Sophia put the phone down on her night stand. She tucked herself back into the bed, getting comfortable. Her body turned to face the empty space next to her. Tomorrow, her husband would be there, looking back at her and stroking her hair. Tomorrow, she would be curled up in his arms again.
Tomorrow…
Tomorrow was the beginning of the end.
