A knock sounded at the door.
We all turned.
The nurse from the hallway opened it a few inches. “Dr. Sinclair? I’m sorry. Your meeting starts in five minutes. Dr. Patel said she can cover for you.”
I swallowed.
Work. Patients. The hospital.
The life I had built when everything else collapsed.
“Thank her for me,” I said.
The nurse’s eyes moved once around the room—not curious, just concerned. “Of course.”
When the door closed, I realized my hands were shaking.
I folded them in my lap.
Connor noticed. He latched onto it immediately.
“There it is,” he said softly. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To punish me. To punish us because we moved on.”
I looked at the baby in Melinda’s arms.
