The nurse’s clipboard shook in her hands as she met his gaze. “We think they might have left… but no one saw them leave,” she admitted. “We’re checking security cameras now.”
Ethan felt as though the floor had vanished beneath him. Room 314, once the epicenter of joy and new life, was now an empty stage—and he had no script for the next act.
Ethan’s mind raced. He gripped the bouquet until the stems snapped, sending pale petals skittering across the linoleum. Each step down the hall echoed his rising panic. He checked the waiting area, then the elevators, scanning every corridor as though the hospital itself might have swallowed them whole.
“Security cameras?” he demanded, his voice raw. “Check the cameras! Someone must have seen her!”
The nurse nodded, fumbling for her phone. “We’re already on it, sir. Just… please stay calm. We’ll find them.”
Calm. The word mocked him. How could he stay calm when Lina—his wife, his newborn daughter—had vanished without a trace? Every possibility clawed at his chest: had she wandered off, confused from exhaustion and pain? Had someone taken advantage of her vulnerability?
He sprinted toward the main lobby, eyes darting for any sign of her. The bouquet felt absurdly heavy now, a fragile reminder of the morning’s joy, of the life that had just begun. Ethan’s heartbeat pounded in his ears as he forced himself to breathe, to think, to act.
“Lina!” he called again, louder this time, his voice breaking across the empty hall. “Lina, where are you?”
Somewhere deep in the hospital, the faintest rustle of fabric, a soft whimper—he could swear he heard it. He spun toward the sound, hope and terror colliding. The chase had begun, and Ethan knew there would be no rest until he held them both safely in his arms.