The hospital hallways were bright, cold, and smelled like floor wax and bleach. Fiona sat on a hard plastic chair, her eyes fixed on the double doors of the emergency wing. She was still wearing still wearing her dress, but it wasn't perfect anymore. It was stained with the dark, dried blood of the man she loved. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the weight of Nathan falling on her, taking the bullets that were meant for her heart.
Duncan sat next to her, his head in his hands. He looked like a broken man, but Fiona didn't have the energy to comfort him. She was waiting for a sign. She was waiting for a heartbeat.
Finally, a doctor in green scrubs walked out. He was wiping sweat from his forehead, and his face didn't look good. Fiona jumped up so fast her head spun.
"How is he? Is Nathan okay?" she asked, her voice cracking.
