He had made decisions all his life without hesitation, without looking back, convinced that firmness was always the best response to any situation.
But now, that certainty was crumbling, leaving cracks where memories that she could no longer ignore began to seep through.
Emily had said that the water was warm, that she had checked everything, that Zion was completely safe before he interrupted.
And he didn’t listen to her.
Not really.
He only saw what he wanted to see: disorder, a deviation from the rules, a threat to his carefully structured system.
The image of her backing away, her hands trembling, returned with an unsettling clarity, as if someone had placed her in front of him with no possibility of moving her away.
“I don’t pay you to make decisions,” he had said.
The phrase now resonated with a different weight, less authoritarian, more empty, as if it hid something he himself had not wanted to acknowledge at that moment.
A nurse walked past him, breaking the silence, but didn’t look directly at him, and that small gesture made him feel even more isolated amidst the constant activity.
