I didn’t remember leaving the room.
One second I was staring at that empty space where my father’s bed had been, and the next I was back in the hallway, moving too fast for someone whose lungs still burned every time she breathed. My hands were shaking, but I curled them into fists and kept going.
Because panic wasn’t going to find him.
“Administration,” I muttered under my breath. “Main desk. Records. There has to be something.”
There always was.
Paper trails don’t just vanish. Not in a place like this. Hospitals ran on records. Logs. Timestamps. Everything documented down to the second.
So if my father had been moved…
There would be proof.
I followed the overhead signs, ignoring the way my vision blurred at the edges. The corridor stretched longer than I remembered, fluorescent l
