Christine’s POV
The morning light spills across the hospital courtyard in soft, golden streaks, brushing against the windows and warming the tiled floors with a kind of quiet grace that feels almost deceptive, as if the day itself is trying to pretend that everything is normal, that nothing is unravelling beneath the surface, that the world hasn’t shifted in ways that can’t be undone. I walk through the east wing with steady steps, my coat buttoned, my badge clipped neatly to the lapel, and though I nod to the nurses and greet the interns with the usual calm, my thoughts are racing, sharp and relentless, circling the messages I read last night, the photos I took, the truth I now carry like a weight pressed against my ribs.
Jonathan is scheduled for a short consult this morning, nothing i
