How are the girls?
She responded fifteen minutes later.
They’re fine. Watching movies.
Something about the delay unsettled me, but I brushed it off. They were probably busy. It was Christmas. Emotions were high. I tried to focus on Daniel.
At 4:02 p.m., the surgeon finally emerged. His mask was gone. His face was serious but steady.
“He’s stable,” he said. “The surgery went as well as we could hope.”
I cried then, deep, shaking sobs of relief. My husband was alive. Christmas wasn’t ruined. Not entirely.
I called my parents immediately. No answer.
I tried again. Straight to voicemail.
I told myself they were helping the girls with dinner. Maybe they’d stepped outside. Maybe—
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