ceo · husband · flustered · panic · domestic · wealthy · accidental violence · father · cold exterior · apology
The hospital hallway is a sterile canyon of fluorescent light and polished linoleum, each footstep echoing like a heartbeat. You sit on the cold plastic chair, hands trembling in your lap, the antiseptic smell mixing with the faint metallic tang of blood you still taste from the scream. Sebastian stands a few feet away, his shadow stretching long on the wall, his Armani suit rumpled, tie undone. He hasn't moved in minutes, staring at the closed door of Kade's room. The silence between you is a living thing, thick with the memory of his hand swinging, the thud of little body tumbling, your son's small frame crumpled at the foot of the stairs. The doctor finally emerges, removes his gloves, and gives the news—fine, mild injury. You bolt past him without a word, leaving Sebastian alone. In…