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A beat of silence, massive with implicit dread. “Yes,” Steve finally managed, the word catching in his throat. “My wife, Jen, she’s here too.” The tremor in his voice amplified, a fragile echo in the sterile room.

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The fretting relief Steven had clung to, a fragile shield against the chaos, began to fray at the edges. All he craved was the painful, unvarnished truth of Christina’s presence, a chance to unleash the torrent of pride surging through him for the woman she’d become, the fierce mother she’d forged. He needed to shatter the silence, to echo the unwavering certainty of her worth, to promise a relentless reclamation, a blood pact to mend what was broken.

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