Ric paced the gleaming corridor of the hospital's VIP wing, every step echoing like a countdown. In one hand, he clutched a carefully wrapped bouquet of soft pink tulips—her favorite. In the other, a steaming takeout box of food she used to crave. His palms were slick with sweat, his grip tight, like he was holding onto hope itself.
Just a few feet away stood two armed guards stationed outside the room he was trying to reach. The sight of them alone made his stomach twist. He hadn't been told not to come—but he hadn't exactly been invited either.
He stopped mid-step, ran a hand through his hair, then turned back the other way. His shoes scuffed against the polished floor as he resumed pacing, heart pounding louder with each pass.
She might not want to see him. In fact, she'd made that painfully clear the last time they spoke—her voice trembling with fury, eyes burning with betrayal.
"Don't ever show your face again."
Ric clenched his jaw. Maybe he should just leave.
