AVA
The elevator doors opened straight into my living room and I nearly dropped my bag from the sudden wave of exhaustion. Daniel was already there, pacing near the windows with his laptop open on the coffee table, the city lights casting long shadows across the floor like silent watchers closing in. He looked up the moment I stepped inside, eyes scanning me like he was checking for fresh wounds, his face etched with worry that made my chest tighten painfully.
“I saw your message,” he said, crossing the room in three quick strides. “Got here as fast as I could. Sit down before you fall down. You look like hell, Ava. Tell me what happened at the clinic.”
I sank onto the couch, the scar tugging sharply, a constant reminder of how close I had come again. “The doctor confirmed it, it was a
