Page 18 of A Prescription to My Heart

Talia brushes a curl from Marigold’s forehead. “Yeah, kid. If your Dad agrees.”

“Good.” Marigold releases her and steps back, grinning.

I open the door, my hand gripping the frame a little too tightly.

Talia steps outside, pausing to glance up at me. “Try not to look so pained next time, Doc. I’m notthatbad.”

I hold her gaze, refusing to rise to the bait. She just smiles, eyes flicking over my face like she’s trying to figure something out.

Then she turns and walks away.

I watch her until she disappears to her house, the echo of her laughter still in the air.

I close the door, exhaling slowly.

Marigold hums as she heads toward the stairs. “Youlikeher,” she sing-songs.

“Go to bed,” I order with a scowl.

She giggles. “Yousolike her.”

I drag a hand down my face again as she disappears into her room, leaving me alone in the quiet house.

Not good.

***

Laughter. Light, free, and warm in a way I haven't heard in years.

Marigold’s giggles ring through the kitchen as she leans against a woman. At first, I think it’s Lisa. My heart jumps. But then I realize it’s Talia, eyes bright with mischief. Talia laughs too, head tilted back, hair catching the soft glow of the overhead lights. The sound wraps around me, a foreign kind of warmth settling into my chest.

They look like they belong together.

I’m there, too—watching, listening, letting myself sink into the moment like it’s real. Like this is our life. Like Talia has always been here, slipping effortlessly into the empty spaces we don’t talk about.

I reach for my glass of water, but my fingers brush hers instead. Warm. Soft. A flicker of something dangerous passes through me.

Talia turns, eyes meeting mine, something unreadable lingering in their depths.

And then…

I wake up.

The warmth vanishes, replaced by the cold press of reality. The room is dark. Silent.

I exhale sharply, rubbing a hand over my face. The dream lingers, clinging to the edges of my mind like a scent that won’t fade.

Marigold. And Talia. Together. Happy.

Withme.

I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, my chest tightening. The frustration is immediate, burning through my veins like an itch I can’t scratch.

This isn’t supposed to happen. I don’t dream of people. I don’twantto.

Talia is a complication I don’t need. A disruption I can’t afford. Ever since Lisa, I have crafted the perfect, controlled life for myself and my daughter. I can’t let anything disrupt that.

I drag a hand through my hair.

---