Next day, Gwen sat with her morning coffee and stared at her laptop for what felt like eternity. Unsure what to do, she called out towards the hallway, “Elizabeth? Do you mind helping with something?” Elizabeth appeared in the doorway. “Of course. What is it?” Gwen pointed to the insurance policy. “I don’t know how to word the first email. Could you draft it?”
Elizabeth took the seat beside her and read through the document. “Sure. You want it to be polite but firm, right? Something like: Dear Ms. Hartley, I am writing to confirm receipt of policy 294B1 in the name of Albert M. Dawson…” Gwen watched her type. The tone was perfect.
When the email was finished, Elizabeth saved it as a draft and slid the laptop back toward Gwen. “Want to read it before sending it?” Gwen skimmed it, then clicked send without changes. “That’s good,” she said. “Thank you.” Elizabeth nodded, already reaching for the next stack of documents.
That evening, they had dinner in front of the TV—something Gwen hadn’t done in weeks. Elizabeth didn’t fill the silence with unnecessary talk. She just sat nearby, sometimes commenting on the news, sometimes not. Gwen realized she wasn’t bracing for conflict anymore. She wasn’t second-guessing every word.
Gwen thought the grief would feel sharper with Elizabeth around, or that she’d have to endure passive-aggressive remarks at every turn. Instead, what formed between them was quiet. Mutual. It wasn’t affection, not yet—but it was support. And Gwen, though hesitant at first, was beginning to feel grateful.
One morning, Gwen woke up with her head pounding. She’d cried herself to sleep the night before—memories of Albert too loud to ignore. Her limbs felt heavy, her thoughts slow. She dragged herself out of bed, just to get water, barely able to walk straight without gripping the wall.
Elizabeth spotted her in the hallway and frowned. “Are you alright?” Gwen shook her head. “Just a headache. Slept badly.” Elizabeth nodded quickly. “Sit down. I’ll make you some tea.” Gwen didn’t argue. She lowered herself into the chair at the kitchen table and rested her forehead on her palm.
Minutes later, Elizabeth placed a cup of tea in front of her, along with toast and a mild painkiller. “Eat something. Then take this.” Gwen reached for the mug slowly, touched by the effort. No fuss, no dramatics. Just someone noticing. She felt her throat tighten. “Thank you,” she whispered.
As she returned to bed, Gwen curled up under the blanket and blinked back sudden tears. The weight of the kindness settled deep in her chest. She hadn’t expected anyone to look after her like this—not Elizabeth, especially. And yet, here she was. Gwen felt almost undeserving of it.
She lay there, drowsy, waiting for the medicine to take hold. The light coming through the curtains was soft. Just as she was drifting off, Elizabeth entered the room holding a neat stack of papers. “Hey, sorry,” she said. “These are invoices from the vendors—just need a few signatures.”