Christopher’s hands gripped the steering wheel harder than he realized. His phone sat on the passenger seat beside him, the screen cracked slightly from how many times he’d picked it up, checked it, put it down, only to snatch it up again. Still no message. No missed call. No read receipt. Nothing.
His heart pounded louder with each red light he passed, with each mile he swallowed whole.
Vivian always answered. Always.
“She’s probably already at the hospital,” he told himself out loud, forcing calm into his voice. “Maybe she forgot her phone. Maybe her battery died. Maybe…”
But maybe wasn’t enough.
His gut twisted. That hollow, churning feeling that only ever showed up when something was very, very wrong. And today, it was screaming.
The moment he reached the hospital, the same one V
