Daniel woke to white ceilings and the steady beep of monitors.
The smell of antiseptic filled his lungs as reality rushed back in, cruel and sharp.
"Where are my wife's belongings?" Daniel asked immediately, his voice raw, barely audible, yet filled with urgency.
Henry stepped forward at once. "They're here," he said gently, placing the bag into Daniel's hands.
Daniel clutched it to his chest like a lifeline, fingers curling around the fabric until his knuckles turned white. His breath broke, chest heaving as the pain surged back in full force.
He turned his face away from everyone in the room.
"Privacy," he said firmly.
The authority in his voice left no room for argument. One by one, the doctors, nurses, even Henry stepped out, quietly closing the door behind them.
Alone at last, Daniel opened the bag.
Her phone. Her scarf. A small hair clip he had once teasingly complained about losing under the couch before her parents.
His breath hitched violently.
