Donald looked down at his trembling hand, then clenched it into a tight fist.
That scene replayed in his head again and again.
She had been fine. She had been smiling. And then suddenly, she was unconscious.
What had gone wrong?
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his brows furrowed deep in thought.
Was it something she ate? Or something she saw? Or was it something else—something far more serious and hidden?
He had spent the last hour pacing, trying to stay calm, trying not to think of the worst. But now, sitting in this cold room while doctors worked behind closed doors, the fear he had been holding back slowly began to overwhelm him.
'
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'
The drive to the hospital was quiet. No words were exchanged. No distractions. Just the low hum of the car's engine and the soft rhythm of tires against the road.
