“I should probably tell you something,” he said. “I’ve got a kidney condition. It’s genetic. Slow-moving, but… it’s getting worse.” She blinked. “Are you—okay?” “For now,” he said. “I take meds. I stay careful. But time’s running out.”
“At some point, I’ll need a transplant. Just… part of the ordeal.” Maya stared at the sidewalk. “Is that why you became a nurse?” He gave a tired smile. “It helps to know what you’re up against.” There was no plea in his voice. No hint of expectation.