David
The drive to the hospital was peaceful, almost deceptively so. Laura sat quietly beside me, her fingers intertwined with mine as I steered the car. Her grip was light, almost hesitant, but she didn’t let go.
I glanced at her now and then, her face a mask of quiet resolve. She was nervous, no doubt, but she didn’t want to show it. That was Laura—always composed, always trying to hold it together.
“You okay?” I asked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
She nodded, though her silence said otherwise.
When we arrived at the hospital, the tension in the air thickened. As we approached the ward, I spotted him—Ryan, of course, standing by her parents’ side, laughing at something her father had said.
Laura’s mother, who barely looked at her own daughter most days, was glowing with warmth
