Her husband was stable.
He had a broken arm, but he was alive.
For a moment, that was enough.
Then she remembered the passenger.
When she asked about the other person, the nurse hesitated before answering.
“She’s in the same room.”
The word she was not prepared for was simple.
She.
The nurse handed her a clipboard, giving her something physical to hold while her thoughts raced. Her eyes moved down the page until one name stopped everything.
Passenger: Jessica Ramirez.
Jessica.
The same woman her husband had insisted meant nothing.
The same woman whose messages had caused arguments.
The same woman he said she was only worried about because pregnancy was making her emotional.
She read the name once.
Then again.
Then a third time, hoping her mind had somehow created the letters wrong.
It hadn’t.
Before she could decide whether to walk away, demand answers, or confront him immediately, a doctor approached her carefully.
