As he pushed through the sliding doors, the receptionist at the front desk looked up. She froze for half a second, then smiled politely.
"Oh! Mr. Carter. You're here for Dr. Tara?"
Her tone was casual, as if this was a normal husband-picking-up-wife moment.
"Yes," Ethan said quickly, leaning on the counter. "Where is she?"
"She's in her office, I believe," the receptionist replied. "End of the east corridor, second floor..Should I call her?"
"No. I'll go to her myself."
She blinked at his sudden urgency but nodded. "Alright. Her office is—"
But Ethan was already moving.
**
The hallways smelled faintly of antiseptic and floor cleaner. His footsteps echoed sharply against the tile. He passed a couple of nurses, gave a quick nod, and kept going. The corridor felt too long, too quiet.
When he reached the east wing, he saw her office door — closed. He tried the handle.
Locked.
His chest tightened. He knocked firmly. "Tara? It's me. Open up."
There was no answer.
