She pressed it.
So she’d tapped . And for 21 days, the silence had felt like breathing for the first time.
Zara’s blood turned to ice. “I’m coming. Which hospital?”
When the doctor finally came out and said, “He’s going to be fine,” her mother crumpled into Zara’s shoulder.
“The hospital just called,” her mother whispered. “Your father collapsed. They’re prepping him for surgery. I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour.”
A long pause. Then a sound Zara had never heard from her mother in her entire life: a sob.