The hospital loomed under the night sky like a fortress of white light, sterile and unyielding. Its walls reflected the cold glow of street lamps, the hum of its neon signs mixing with the distant rumble of cars. The moment Elijah and I stepped through the automatic doors, the familiar antiseptic sting hit me, sharp and almost unbearable. Memories rose unbidden—nights of uncertainty, hushed corridors, the metallic tang of fear when news came too fast, too cruel.

Elijah’s hand found mine ...