Chapter 11 - Praying Beside The Intensive Care Unit
I sat in a stiff plastic chair beside incubator four, watching the tiny rise and fall of Lily’s chest.
Tubes and wires connected her delicate body to automated monitors that beeped in a steady, reassuring rhythm.
Every time a monitor blipped, my heart jumped into my throat in a wave of terrifying phantom trauma.
Ethan hovered near the doorway like a ghost, too ashamed and broken to step closer to our baby’s bedside.
“I didn't know, Claire... I swear to God I had no idea my mother was plotting this,” Ethan whispered hoarsely.
I didn't look at him, keeping my eyes locked on my daughter’s fragile face while tears tracked down my cheeks.
“You spent every weekend visiting your mother while she complained about me not giving her a proper grandson,” I said quietly.
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“You enabled her toxic venom, Ethan, and tonight our daughter almost paid for your cowardice with her life.”
Ethan choked back a sob, sliding down the hallway wall until he sat flat on the cold hospital linoleum.
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