Fighting back her own tears, Odette pulled Lawrence toward the window and pushed it open. The biting winter wind swept away the stale heat of the hospital room. Looking down from the sixth floor, they had a clear view of the plaza in front of the inpatient building.
Bonnie's elegant figure, carrying her sketchpad, stepped into view. Against the bleak, gray canvas of winter, she was the brightest splash of color.
A gust of wind caught the mustard-yellow scarf around her neck, making it flutter. Lawrence's eyes lit up instantly. He couldn't quite believe it, but he recognized her immediately.
"Mom, it's Candie."
"Yes, it's her."
"It's Candie."
Tears suddenly welled up in Lawrence's eyes. His memory was full of images of Bonnie carrying her sketchpad to the design studio, and in that split second, they all came rushing back, vividly alive.
The most unforgettable one was back at Cabinda University. One of the academic buildings sat right in a wind tunnel. Bonnie had been carrying her sketchpad through the courtyard toward the architecture building.
A sudden gust of wind had ripped the sketchpad right out of her hands. As she scrambled to pick it up, she spotted him standing at the bottom of the steps, his chin tilted up arrogantly, glaring at her playfully.
He had taken the stairs two at a time, scooped up her board, and wrapped her tightly inside his trench coat. He had shielded her from the cold, tilting his head down to give her a deep, consuming kiss.
The wind had kept blowing, swinging the sketchpad back and forth, thumping gently against his leg. The memory was so clear, but the physical warmth of her was entirely gone.
Slowly, Bonnie's figure disappeared from sight.
Swallowing the bitter lump in his throat, Lawrence spoke, his voice brimming with desperate hope. "Mom, did Candie come to see me?"
Odette couldn't bring herself to shatter his delusion. She stared out at the barren trees. "Yes. She came to see you, sweetie. Candie said... she hopes you get better soon. She doesn't blame you anymore."
Lawrence fell into a long, profound silence. It wasn't until the window was shut tight, blocking out the northern wind, that the chill truly set in. It swept through his entire chest—icy, piercing, and suffocating.
He gave a slow, barely perceptible nod.
She felt a deep reverence for the sacrifice Wallace had made for the public, but her heart shattered for the family left behind to bear the unimaginable pain.
She realized, with a heavy heart, just how much responsibility came with loving a police officer.
It meant they entrusted their vulnerable back to you, while they faced the danger head-on, offering their lives to the badge.
To Bonnie, the families of these officers were just as brave, just as worthy of profound respect.
But if someone asked if she was ready to take on that role? Bonnie didn't have an answer.
As the service neared its end, Bonnie placed a floral tribute at the altar. She stepped back into the grieving crowd, finding herself standing next to the Captain of Aiken's precinct.
Listening to the heartbreaking sobs echoing around them, the Captain's eyes were bloodshot. She spoke softly to Bonnie. "In our line of work, we don't always get a choice. Who wouldn't want to sit down for dinner with their family on Christmas Eve? Who wouldn't want to take their kid to an amusement park, or just be there for their aging parents?"

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