A Second Chance with My Husband in the Past
Her voice broke, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.
The steady, sleeping rhythm of the monitor suddenly lurched—beep, beep, beep—faster and erratic, each pulse slamming against the walls of the room like a drumbeat of panic. Charlotte’s head snapped toward the screen, her heart lurching in her chest as the numbers flashed red, unstable, climbing too high, too fast. Her hand tightened around Howard’s arm, fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeve. “Howard,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her gaze flicking from the monitor to his face. “He’s—his heart, it’s—”
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