“How long have you known?”
“Two years,” he admitted.
My eyes widened. “Two years? Since…”
“Since the night Conan died. The damage started that night. I was diagnosed afterward. I’ve been managing it… hiding how bad it’s become.”
Everything clicked. “That’s why you called him. You were having a heart attack.”
Charles nodded, tears streaming. “It was mild. But I panicked. I called Conan to take me to the hospital. A neighbor found me and called 911. By the time I woke up, Conan was already gone.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“Because I couldn’t stand the thought of you grieving for me, too. I stayed close to help you heal. And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you… even while quietly afraid of what my heart might do.”
