Rhysand.
The scent of this place clings to the back of my throat, making me rethink my whole decision of coming here.
I have the free will to walk out of these sliding glass doors and never look back but then I turn and she’s there.
My mushroom.
Trembling like a leaf, pacing the length of the waiting room floor, silent tears streaming from her eyes.
“What if he lost an arm?”
“He didn’t.”
But we’ve been waiting for hours without a word, or a single scrap of "good news" from the vultures in white coats. So Rain doesn’t look like she believes me.
Every few minutes, her phone buzzes in her hand from my mother, calling for the hundredth time demanding for updates that Rain can’t provide.
It’s gotten to the point I had to take her phone away and warn my mother off.
“Your precious baby
