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"I'm sorry," I whisper, the words feeling wholly inadequate. "For disappearing like that. For the damage to the barbershop. For everything."

Marcus waves his hand dismissively. "Girl, please. I've been around long enough to know when someone's running from something bigger than themselves." His eyes crinkle at the corners, but the concern doesn't leave them. "That glass? Replaceable. You? Not so much."

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Your sister came by, you know. Few days after you vanished."

My heart clenches. "I know"

"She's a good kid. Worried sick about you. Asking all kinds of questions I couldn't answer." His voice drops lower. "And damnit, Indie, I wanted to answer them. It got so bad that I was afraid that maybe you were dead somewhere. That whoever shot up my shop that day had come to finish the job."

You have no idea just how right you are.

I close my eyes, guilt crushing my chest. Everyone I care about, I hurt. It's like I'm cursed or something.

"I'm really sorry, Marcus. I never meant to?—"

"Hey." His voice is firm but gentle. "I'm not looking for apologies. Just glad you're still breathing."

The simple kindness in his words nearly breaks me. In this sterile hospital room, with monitors beeping and antiseptic burning my nostrils, I'm suddenly aware of how few people in my life have ever genuinely cared what happened to me. Not because of what I could do for them. Not because of what I represented. Just... me.

I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you where I've been."

Marcus's laugh is low and rumbling. "I've seen some shit in my time."

I meet his gaze, seeing nothing but sincerity there. But I can't drag him further into this mess. I've already put too many people in danger.

"No," I say softly. "I really don't think you would."

"Try me."

Just then, a doctor in steps in. Her tired eyes briefly scan the chart in her hands before looking up at me with a practiced smile.

"Good evening, Ms. Doe. I'm Dr. Jocelyn Espina. How are you feeling right now?"

The relief that overcomes me is immediate. I've never been so grateful for an interruption in my life. No way I can explain to Marcus that I married the Russian mob boss who came to kill me, watched him murder the cops who killed my parents, and oh yeah, I'm carrying his baby after Ijustgot away from someone who want us both dead.

I glance between Marcus and the doctor, unsure what to say or how much I can reveal. My fingers fidget with the thin hospital blanket.

Marcus seems to read my hesitation. He rises from his chair, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'll give you some privacy," he says, his voice gruff but kind. "You need to talk to your doctor without an old man hanging around." He moves toward the door, then pauses. "I'll be right outside. You holler if you need anything, you hear me?"

I nod, grateful for his understanding.

"Thank you, Marcus. For everything."

He waves away my thanks and steps out, pulling the door closed behind him with a soft click.

The moment we're alone, I turn to Dr. Espina with desperate eyes. The question I've been terrified to ask since I woke up bursts from my lips.

"Is my baby alright?" My voice cracks. "Please tell me my baby's okay."

Dr. Espina moves closer, pulling up a rolling stool to sit near my bed. She sets down her clipboard and looks at me with gentle eyes.

"Ms. Doe... we were primarily focused on stabilizing you when you arrived. You lost quite a bit of blood, and that was our immediate concern." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "We weren't aware of your pregnancy, and so we haven't done a full examination for it. And until we do, I can't give you a definitive status about your baby right now."

My heart sinks. The weight of not knowing feels crushing, like someone's stacked bricks on my chest. I blink rapidly, trying to hold back tears that are already spilling down my cheeks.

"So... you don't know if my baby is okay?" My voice sounds small, even to me.