The ward corridor was silent, only the faint hum of machines and the occasional movement of nurses’ feet. Aria sat on the edge of the plastic chair, her fingers twisted tightly in her lap. Every second felt stretched, suspended in tension. Her heart painfully echoed in her chest as she stared at the double doors that separated her from Jerry.
With a soft push, the door was made open and a nurse in pale blue scrubs stepped out, holding a very small container in her hand. Her eyes scanned the waiting area until they landed on Aria.
“Mrs. Clark?” she asked.
Aria blinked, startled. “I—I’m not his—”
But before she could finish, the nurse had already walked over and pressed the balm gently into her palm. “He’s awake. The doctor cleaned the wound. It wasn’t fatal, thank God. He’ll need thi
