Sleep didn’t come easily that night. Liam lay on his narrow bed, staring at the ceiling, the glow from the streetlamp outside cutting sharp lines across the cracked plaster. His mind replayed the cryptic text message in an endless loop. Help is possible. We’ll call soon.

He hadn’t told Sofia. How could he? She needed strength, not more uncertainty. Instead, he’d smiled through his hospital visits, cracking jokes about the food and promising to sort out the bills. But the truth pressed ...