My chest tightened with recognition. It was my estranged former partner, Corwin, a man who had ignored the restraining order as though it were nothing more than a bothersome suggestion. He had always been meticulous, always careful, and always furious when life slipped beyond his control. He had once promised that walking away from him would become the biggest mistake of my life, and I had believed it was empty anger. I had been wrong.
The soft sound of the newborn fussing broke the thick stillness. Corwin moved toward the bassinet. His silhouette blocked the faint hallway light filtering under the curtain. He opened a drawer, the metal tools inside clinking softly.
Before anything could happen, a nurse’s voice echoed down the corridor. “Room 12. Are you still inside?”
Corwin froze. The drawer clicked softly shut. His footsteps moved quickly toward the door. A quiet exit. The kind of departure someone makes when they have planned their escape ahead of time.