Saint:
The fluorescent hospital lights seemed both harsh and dull at the same time—harsh in the way they revealed every detail of Shay’s bruised and battered face, dull because the world felt devoid of color without her bright smile. I’d been living in this place for three days now, anchored to the chair by her bedside, surviving on coffee, sorrow, and raw determination.
Those first hours after the crash were a blur of sirens, frantic nurses, and grim-faced doctors explaining the odds. They’d performed an emergency surgery to reduce the swelling in her brain, shaving away her silky blonde hair I’d loved to run my fingers through. Now, a stark bandage wrapped around her head, hiding the incision that saved her life.
Her pregnancy had miraculously survived the trauma, though the doctors s
