Laura
The days blurred together after my father’s second surgery. Each morning started with visits to the ICU, David at my side like a silent sentinel. He’d never missed a single visit, yet he felt so far away. His mind was somewhere else, weighed down by problems he refused to share. I had learned not to ask after our argument about Scarlet’s diary. It was his life, his burdens, his choice to let me in—or not.
But his distance hurt.
On the third day, Ryan approached me as I stood by the coffee machine in the ICU hallway. His expression was unusually cheerful, his blue eyes twinkling with humor.
“Laura,” he started, his tone light, “I have some good news—and a threat.”
I frowned, confused. “A threat?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. My dad said if your father doesn’t get better soon, he’s going
