I read it once.
Then again.
Because my mind refused to accept that this was real.
“Erica?” Riley’s voice was soft, gentle. “Are you okay?”
I looked at her, but it was like looking through glass. “Where’s Sam?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “A nurse came for him after you left. She said there were papers at reception.”
My heart started pounding.
“Did he say anything?”
She shook her head. “Not to me. But he kissed the girls’ foreheads. He looked at them for a moment.” Her voice cracked slightly. “I asked him if he wanted me to call you. He said no. That it was better to let you eat first.”
Let you eat first.
I handed her the note, my hands trembling.
And she was already dialing.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Voicemail.
Then Gia.
She answered too quickly.
“Hello?”
“Where is he?”
Silence.
“Who is it, Erica?”
“Your son left me in a hospital room with two newborns and a note. Where is he?”
Her voice turned cold. Controlled. Calculated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You should try to sound surprised.”
“Erica—”
“If you know where she is, tell her this: she can’t just disappear and pretend it was a good decision for me and my daughters.”
I hung up.
Because if I didn’t, I would break in a way I’d never recover from.
I cried only once that day.
Just once.
In a hospital bathroom that smelled of antiseptic
