The clinic smelled too clean.
Aira had always hated places like this — the kind of sterile quiet that made every thought echo louder than it should. The white walls felt almost accusatory, like they were waiting for something to go wrong.
She sat in the waiting area with her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had turned pale. She hadn’t told anyone she was coming.
Not her friend.
And certainly not Lucien.
The nurse’s voice kept replaying in her mind.
Elevated levels.
Precautionary.
Don’t worry.
People always said that right before there was something to worry about.
Her phone buzzed inside her bag.
She ignored it.
It buzzed again.
And again.
She didn’t need to check the screen to know who it was. Still, her hand moved slowly, almost unwillingly, pulling the
