Aria's POV
I threw the door open and rushed in.
There he was. One hand clutching his chest, the other gripping the edge of the hospital bed like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Shards of glass—a cup, his cup—scattered everywhere.
"Aria?" His eyes went wide. Shock. Pure, unfiltered shock. "Sweetie, how did you—"
The pieces were everywhere. Broken. Sharp. My chest ached.
Then he laughed. A small, shaky laugh. "Heh. Dad's hand slipped. Just couldn't hold onto it."
He started to bend down to pick up the pieces himself.
"No—don't—" I was already moving. I stopped him. "I'll clean it up. Dad, please. Get back in bed and rest."
I stayed quiet while I picked up the big shards and tossed them in the trash, then used paper towels to wipe the floor over and over.
I couldn't rememb
