LOGINVanessa had stopped crying.That was the most unsettling part.Not the silence in the house. Not the untouched meals. Not even the way the nursery door remained closed, as if opening it would somehow confirm the absence inside.It was the stillness in her.A hollow, quiet numbness that had settled deep into her bones and refused to move.Three days.Three days since the hospital.Three days since the doctor’s voice had gently dismantled her world.Three days since she had lost her child.And yet—The world outside continued as if nothing had happened.The sun still rose.Cars still passed.People still laughed.Vanessa sat on the edge of the bed that morning, staring blankly at her hands resting in her lap.They felt unfamiliar.Everything did.The room around her—their bedroom—felt like a place she used to belong to, not somewhere she lived anymore.Behind her, William moved quietly, getting dressed.He had been quieter these past few days.Careful.Measured.Like a man walking acros
The call came just after sunset.Louis stared at his phone for a long moment before answering.Camille.Her name glowed on the screen like a question he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer.After everything that had happened—the board, the suspension, his apartment being torn apart—he wasn’t in the mood for games.And yet…He answered.“What?” he said flatly.There was a brief pause on the other end.“I need to see you,” Camille said.Her voice was steady.Too steady.Louis let out a dry laugh. “That sounds like a bad idea.”“It’s not,” she replied quickly. “Not if you care about what happens next.”That caught his attention.His expression shifted slightly, though she couldn’t see it.“Go on,” he said.“I know you weren’t lying,” Camille
William stood still for a moment after he ended the call.The hospital corridor stretched out before him again—long, white, silent—but it no longer felt the same.Something had shifted.Something dangerous.His heart was still racing, but now it wasn’t from shock or grief.It was from decision.He turned away from the quiet corner where he had made the call and leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly as he ran a hand through his hair.He had done it.Said the words.Made the promises.And she had believed him.Ava had believed him.For a brief moment, her silence on the phone had terrified him. The pause had stretched just long enough for doubt to creep in, just long enough for him to wonder if he had already lost her—and the child—completely.But then…Her voice.Soft.Fragile.Hopeful.And just like that—
The hospital corridor felt endless.White.Cold.Unforgiving.William Reid paced back and forth like a man trapped inside his own mind, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor. The scent of antiseptic hung thick in the air, sharp and sterile, doing nothing to calm the storm building inside him.Time had become meaningless.Minutes stretched into something unbearable.Every second that passed without news tightened the pressure in his chest.His hands wouldn’t stay still.He ran them through his hair.Folded them.Unfolded them.Checked his watch.Checked it again.Nothing changed.The double doors at the end of the corridor remained closed.And behind them—Vanessa.His wife.His child.The word child hit differently now.He exhaled sharply and stopped pacing for a moment, bracing his hands against the
William Reid didn’t realize how exhausted he was until he pulled into his driveway.The day had stretched him thin in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Not physically—but mentally. Strategically. Every conversation, every glance, every silence at the disciplinary board had required precision.And now, as he sat in his car with the engine idling, staring at the familiar structure of his home, a different kind of tension crept in.This one, he couldn’t control as easily.Vanessa.He exhaled slowly, gripping the steering wheel.She would have heard by now.News traveled fast on campus—faster when it involved scandal.And Louis hadn’t exactly gone quietly.William closed his eyes briefly.Stay calm.Stay composed.Control the narrative.He stepped out of the car and shut the door quietly behind him.The house lights were on.Ev
The dorm room felt suffocatingly quiet when Ava returned.Too quiet.The kind of silence that didn’t soothe—it pressed in, heavy and accusing, filling every corner with thoughts she couldn’t outrun.She closed the door behind her slowly, the soft click echoing louder than it should have. For a moment, she just stood there, her hand still resting on the handle, as if she didn’t have the strength to take another step forward.Then her knees weakened.Ava moved mechanically to her bed and sank down onto it, her bag slipping from her shoulder and falling to the floor with a dull thud. She didn’t bother picking it up.Her mind replayed everything.The boardroom.Louis’s voice.The disbelief in his eyes.The moment he looked at her—really looked at her—when she denied everything.She squeezed her eyes shut.“I don’t know what he’s talkin







