Lucas
The parents’ private lounge at the FLN clinic in New Jersey was supposed to feel comforting, but all I felt was a thick, humming, tension sitting heavily between me and Cynthia. The room was warm, polished and richly furnished, yet the air felt suffocating.
Cynthia sat beside me, legs crossed neatly, dressed in one of her sharp fashion-show outfits. Dark shades covered her eyes, and that alone irritated me. I couldn’t read her, couldn’t see what she was thinking… and right now, that made everything worse.
We’d been offered wine, coffee and tea, twice but time dragged like a slow-moving shadow.
Dr. Leighton came in and out, each time giving updates on SM-47. Small things. Her vitals. Her dilation. And her current state. Nothing definite, only enough to keep us on edge.
Then the d
