The hospital discharge happens quietly. A nurse explaining instructions Lucas barely hears, his arm in a sling, his movements still stiff with pain. His parents hover too close, relief fighting exhaustion on their faces. Outside, the morning is too normal. Cars pass. People walk by with coffee cups.
Lucas breathes in slowly as he’s helped into the back seat of the car. Every movement pulls at his ribs. He grits his teeth, refusing to let the pain show.
“We’ll go straight home,” his mother says. “No stops.”
Lucas nods. “Yeah. Home sounds good.”
The car pulls away from the curb. They don’t notice the black sedan until it’s already following. Then the sedan stays with them through three turns. Then another car slips in behind it. Lucas shifts in his seat. “Dad… slow down a little.”
His
