Ethan hurried down the corridor toward Room 314, bouquet in hand. He could still see her tired smile and hear their baby’s first tiny cry. Antiseptic clung to the air, but despite it, his joy soared—he was coming home to his family and going to celebrate with them.
The door sat ajar. Inside a rumpled bed, a dark monitor, and an unused IV greeted him. The bassinet was empty too. No soft breaths of a newborn. Only the curtain swaying gently in the still, stale room.
“Maybe a checkup?” he muttered, confused, stepping into the hall. A nurse, hurrying along the corridor, glanced at the empty room, then at him, her expression tightening with anxiety. Ethan’s pulse thundered inexplicably. He knew whatever she was about to say wouldn’t be simple, and it wouldn’t be good news…