Why would I answer? A minute ago, my soul had slipped from my body. He had wanted me gone. Now, I was dead. Satisfied, Daniel?
Yet something nagged at Daniel, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. I had never ignored his calls before, no matter how angry or hurt I was. But he brushed aside the unease, chalking it up to one of my "tantrums." Frustrated, he sent me a voice message, his tone filled with irritation.
"Amelia! How old are you? You think disappearing like this is fun? I don’t have time for your games! Show up soon if you have any sense."
As the message ended, the prayer beads on his wrist—a set I had lovingly blessed for his safety—snapped apart, scattering across the floor. Daniel glanced down, surprised, and for the first time, a shiver of dread crept up his spine. Those beads had been a token of my love, each one a silent prayer for his well-being.
His unease deepened when he recalled Ryan’s grim expression before leaving, the weight of his words lingering in the air. Hastily comforting Sophia, Daniel bent down to collect the scattered beads and then rushed toward the operating room.