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Questions With No Answers
Emma drove straight to her sister Claire’s townhouse. As soon as she walked in, the weight of it all came crashing down. She collapsed on the couch, trembling as she repeated the doctor’s words.
Claire listened, stunned. “Em, maybe he just misread something. Maybe it’s not what it seems.”
For two days, she ignored Michael’s calls. His voicemails swung between pleading concern—“Where are you? I’m worried about you”—and sharp frustration—“This isn’t funny, Emma. Call me back.”
The shift in his tone made her stomach knot.
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