Laura
Ryan’s arms were warm, a steady reassurance in the storm of emotions raging inside me. His words had calmed the chaos, his presence a lifeline in my moment of vulnerability. But as he held me, I noticed something—an unintended intimacy in his touch. The way his hand lingered on my waist, the protective tilt of his head as he looked down at me.
I stepped back abruptly, breaking the moment. “Thank you, Ryan,” I said, my voice trembling.
He looked confused, maybe even hurt, but nodded. “Anytime, Laura.”
I nodded quickly, muttering something about needing to check on the kids, and fled the corridor like a thief in the night.
When I entered my father’s ward, the scene was a stark contrast to the turmoil in my mind. Joshua was seated upright in his hospital bed, his face lit up with j
