He said my name as if it were a prayer.
I felt nothing.
No—that was not true.
I felt too much, but none of it moved toward him.
“You have five minutes,” Elena said.
Cameron looked at her sharply. “This is between me and my wife.”
“No,” I said.
His eyes snapped to mine.
My voice was hoarse, but steady.
“It became something else when you turned off my epidural, ignored medical advice, restrained me, and entered a false note into my chart.”
The color drained from his face.
He looked at Elena, then back at me. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand charts.”
“Amelia, I was scared.”
That almost broke something loose inside me.
Not because it was enough.
Because once, I would have wanted it to be.
“You were scared of what?” I asked. “The baby being too big? My pressure dropping? The nurse warning you? Or were you scared that Sophie might think you didn’t protect her?”
His mouth opened.
No answer came.
I watched him search for the right words the way I had watched relatives in the ER search for excuses after accidents that should never have happened.
Finally, he said, “She told me you had been hostile to her for weeks.”
I blinked.
