Emma’s POV
The morning begins like most others, with the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the familiar scent of antiseptic clinging to the corners of the corridor, and I move through the hospital with the kind of practiced ease that comes from repetition, from knowing exactly where to be and how to look like I belong there. My coat swings lightly around my knees as I walk, clipboard tucked under one arm, and though my steps are steady, my thoughts are not. I’ve been watching Jonathan more closely these past few days, and something in his rhythm has shifted, subtly, but enough for me to notice. He’s quieter. Christine has been hovering, always nearby, always watching, always smiling that careful smile that never quite reaches her eyes.
I pass the nurses’ station, nodding to a f
