Doctors passed through in scrubs, nurses catching their breath, and interns scattered in small, exhausted clusters. But at their corner table, everything faded the second Vivian finished speaking.
Rita sat completely still, her salad forgotten, eyes wide with disbelief. Her fork hovered mid-air like she’d just heard someone confess to murder.
“So you’re telling me… this happened while you were at Christopher’s house?”
Vivian gave a slow, shaky nod, her voice quiet but strained. “While I was in his kitchen. I was right there, Rita. And then, bam. A brick. Through the damn window. Wrapped in a threat.”
Rita blinked, trying to process. “Are you serious?”
Vivian let out a breath that sounded more like a whimper. “As a heart attack.”
She stirred her untouched coffee with a plastic stirrer
