Laura
The first visit to my father’s ICU bed after his surgery felt like stepping into a battlefield. Machines beeped rhythmically, wires and tubes surrounded him like a web, and his face, pale and fragile, seemed to belong to someone else entirely.
I hesitated by the door, but Ryan, who had somehow managed to arrange this visit despite strict hospital rules, gave me an encouraging nod.
“Go on,” he said softly. “He’s waiting for you.”
I turned to him, my voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Ryan. For everything.”
He shrugged, flashing that easy smile that used to disarm me in high school. “Anything for you, Laura. You deserve someone who always has your back.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, and I felt the tension ripple behind me. David had been standing silently by the door,
