Jacob
I followed the nurse.
The hallway smelled like bleach, plastic tubing, and fear.
Leah was in a curtained bay near the end.
She looked small.
I hated that.
Leah was not small. She filled rooms. Not loudly. Not like Ruth. She filled them because she noticed everything and carried too much and still somehow made space for other people.
But in that bed, with her left shoulder bandaged and her face pale under the harsh lights, she looked breakable.
Her eyes opened when I stepped in.
“Bella?” she asked.
Of course.
Not hello.
Not how bad is it.
Bella.
“She’s safe,” I said quickly. “Olivia has her. My mom is there now too. Bella knows you got hurt and doctors are helping you. No scary details.”
Leah closed her eyes for one second.
“Good.”
Her voice was thin.
I hated Victor
