The cold fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting area buzzed faintly above Chantel as she sat stiffly on the hard plastic chair, Vincent cradled gently in her arms. The child stirred now and then, his small hand clutching her blouse as if he could sense the turmoil in her heart. Beside her, the nanny sat quietly, her hands folded neatly in her lap, offering silent support. Though the air-conditioning hummed steadily, Chantel felt warm with anxiety. Her pulse thudded in her ears, her thoughts spinning in circles as she waited for any update on her father's condition.
It had been hours since she had arrived. Hours since the doctor informed her that her father had been admitted in critical condition. And yet, the doors to the emergency ward remained shut to her, guarded not by medical restrictions alone, but by Claire's mother—Mrs. Browson—who had insisted that Chantel not be allowed near her father.
