52
Peter
A dislocated shoulder and a gash on her forehead.
Logically, I know neither of those injuries is life-threatening, but as I look at Sara in the hospital bed, her pale face bruised all over and half-covered by a bandage, fear and rage churn in my chest, defying all attempts at logic.
The four-hour flight to Switzerland was among the longest of my life. Once we changed course, I called Lucas again, demanding more details and explanations, and though he repeatedly assured me that Sara’s condition is stable and she’s being treated by the best doctors in Europe, I didn’t fully believe him until I saw her.
Fate has never been kind to me before.
Sitting down on the edge of her bed, I carefully clasp her hand in both of mine, feeling the fragile warmth of her skin and the delicacy o
