POV: Violet
The hospital halls blurred around me.
I kept moving—clipboard in hand, shoes squeaking faintly on polished tile, smile plastered firmly in place like a mask I couldn’t take off. Nurses passed me, doctors nodded, families whispered their thanks. I answered, nodded, reassured. On the outside, I was Dr. Violet Grey, calm and competent.
Inside, I was screaming.
Every word Ryan and John had thrown at each other replayed in my skull.
She’s not yours.
And she’s not yours either.
She deserves choice.
Choice. Like I was a rope being tugged from both ends until I frayed.
At some point, I ducked into the supply closet just to breathe. The scent of disinfectant stung my nose, grounding me. My hands shook as I braced against the counter, forehead pressed to cool metal.
I couldn’t
