The 48th Lie

urried footsteps of nurses in sensible shoes, and the hushed, anxious voices of families huddled in uncomfortable c

The pain has subsided to a dull, throbbing ache, a physical counterpoint to the hollow cavern that has opened up in my soul. I sit o

caged lion in a bespoke suit, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. His handsome face is a mask of anxiety

treated for "hyperventilation due to extreme shock." The s

open almost simultaneously, a mo

he burns are second-degree. Not severe, but there is a significant risk of infection given the nature of t

is physically fine, but she is extremely emotionally unstable. She's experiencing a severe panic attack. Our recommendation is for her

ent lights of the hospital corridor. A choice between his wif

d nurse at the station, his voice the epitome of firm, decisive command. "I understand the recommendation for my wife. However, I ne

er cam

Seraphina, who leaned into him like a delicate, wilting flower. I saw him carefully buckle her into the passenger seat of his gleaming black sedan. I saw him drape his own tailored coat over her shoulders, a gest