The sterile, white waiting area outside the Operating Room hummed with a low, disquieting energy. Adrian stood rigidly, a solitary figure, pacing the worn linoleum floor, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the double doors that separated him from Evelyn.
Every minute that passed felt like an hour, every distant siren an agonizing spike of fear. The scent of disinfectant, usually just an unnoticed background hum, now felt acrid and overwhelming.
Vinni sat huddled in one of the hard plastic chairs, her shoulders hunched, her hands shaking uncontrollably in her lap. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from silent tears.
“She was okay this morning,” she whispered, her voice raw, directed more at herself than Adrian. “She sounded fine. We even joked about her coffee
