He was left standing outside the hospital’s maternity ward. Wet clothes clung cold to his skin. He couldn’t sit. Couldn’t think straight. Every minute stretched longer than the last. What if the stress had done something? What if help had come too late?
He paced the hallway, counting tiles, replaying everything from the whale’s rescue to the flare, to the way Catherine had grabbed the rail in pain. Please be okay. He clenched his fists and stared at the closed double doors. No news. No sound. Only the antiseptic hum of hospital air.