Christine’s POV
The hospital at night feels like a different creature entirely, stripped of its daytime urgency and softened into something slower, quieter, more intimate, as if the walls themselves are resting, as if the fluorescent lights have dimmed their intensity out of respect for the silence that settles over the corridors like a blanket. I walk through the east wing calmly, my coat buttoned, my badge visible, my steps steady and unhurried, and though everything about me says routine, says normal, says just another doctor doing rounds, my heart is beating faster than it should, and my thoughts are sharp with purpose. I pretended to be here tonight to see some of my patients who are in recovery. It is normal for surgeons to do so. So, Emma does not suspect anything when she sees me
