“Your vision is starting to improve. We can’t predict how far this will go, but it’s a positive trend.”
Tears welled up in my eyes.
For two years I waited for anything resembling hope.
I wanted to call Ashton immediately.
But then I imagined the joy I felt when I looked him straight in the eyes and told him I could finally see his face.
I wanted this moment to be special.
So I kept this news to myself.
Over the next two weeks my vision gradually improved.
Everything remained blurry, but I could make out furniture, identify large objects, and notice when someone moved in the room.
Then came the evening when I discovered the suitcase.
Ashton returned home in a terrible mood.
I asked what was bothering him.
“Nothing, Sutton. I’m just tired.”
“You’ve been tired every night lately.”
He sighed.
“Can we stop arguing?”
“I’m not trying to argue. I’m just worried about you.”
