By now it’s nighttime. It’s been seven hours since I left.
Philip has never been this anxious. His fingers tremble slightly.
When the thirtieth call still shows unanswered, he suddenly slaps himself hard across the face.
James jumps, quickly grabbing his hand.
“Don’t do that. Clara’s the most rational person–she’ll be fine.”
However, Philip doesn’t relax. Instead, he becomes even more frantic.
“It’s all my fault. How could I say those things to her? I knew those people triggered her trauma, yet I still provoked her.”
Guilt also appears on James’s face. Just as he’s about to comfort Philip, his phone suddenly rings.
After answering, his assistant brings good news.
“Mr. James, we’ve found Miss Clara…”
Hearing that address, both men freeze.
They don’t understand why I’d stay at the hospital so long.
But the next moment, a terrible premonition hits them. Cold sweat instantly crawls up their spines.
Philip slams on the gas, racing toward the hospital.
What should have been a thirty–minute drive takes only fifteen.
Getting out of the car, Philip’s legs give out. James quickly supports him to prevent him from falling.
Both men run frantically until a nurse stops them.
Only then does Philip come to his senses, asking anxiously: “Where’s Clara?”
The nurse seems momentarily confused, flipping through her records before speaking: “She left. After the surgery, she rested for a few hours and then left.”
Philip’s mind goes completely blank. He repeats in a daze:
“Surgery? What surgery?”
James also loses his composure, gripping the nurse’s shoulders tightly and shouting: “What surgery?!”
The nurse, frightened, steps back two paces and answers trembling: “Abortion surgery…”
Philip’s vision instantly plunges into darkness. The surrounding sounds suddenly become distant.
He feels dizzy and collapses to the ground.
When he wakes up, James is beside him.
James’s eyes are red–rimmed. A day without shaving have left stubble on his chin.
He stares intently at a photo with me, lost in thought.
Philip throws off the covers and heads for the door.
James anxiously catches up, explaining on my behalf:
“Don’t blame her. Clara just acted impulsively. We’re at fault too–she’s endured too much…”
“I don’t blame her.” Philip interrupts him. He pauses, as if bearing enormous pain.
Finally, he says slowly: “I just want to find her quickly and help her recover.”
With that, he strides toward the door.
Both men immediately mobilize all their connections to search for me.
But three days pass with no results.
Cha
