She tried calling Evan once, twice, three times — no answer. On the fourth, his voice came through, muffled and impatient. “Clara, I’m in a meeting. Can I call you back?” Her voice shook. “I don’t feel right. I think I need to go to the ER.” A pause. The faint hum of traffic. “I’m stuck on the highway. Please — call your mom, okay? She’ll get there faster.”
The call ended before she could respond. She sat there, phone pressed to her chest, waiting for the courage to breathe again. Then, finally, she called her mother. When Maggie arrived later that evening, she didn’t ask questions. She just took one look at Clara’s face — pale, drawn, quiet — and knew. She stayed the night holding her daughter’s hand.