Sarah had married a man the town respected.
Sarah had asked for help quietly.
Sarah had been told to stop causing trouble.
Sarah had ended up gone, and everyone had called it whatever made them comfortable.
Eli had walked through years with that grief like a stone in his pocket.
Now, watching a stranger fight to stay alive in his bed, he felt that stone shift.
He didn’t know this woman.
He didn’t know what she’d run from.
But he knew the shape of fear in her eyes when she’d grabbed his wrist.
And he knew that if he walked away from this—if he let her die because it was easier—he’d carry another stone forever.
