ISABELLE
SATURDAY MORNING
I stood at the hospital window, watching the city wake up below.
The sun was just starting to rise, casting long shadows across the parking lot. A few early morning joggers passed by on the sidewalk. Cars pulling in for the morning shift change. Life continuing as normal while mine felt suspended in this sterile room.
Mom was still asleep in the bed behind me, her breathing steady and even. The monitors beeped softly, a rhythm I’d gotten used to over the past twelve hours.
Sage was in the bathroom getting dressed. I could hear the water running, the soft sounds of her moving around.
And I was standing here, staring out the window, unable to stop my mind from spinning.
Last night, when Dr. Brennan had finally answered our questions about the private suite,
