Belonging to You

Abigail's POV

I've never liked the sterile scent and stale air of hospitals. But after years as a nurse, I'd grown used to it. The smell had stopped feeling unbearable-mostly.

The locker room smelled faintly of antiseptic and stale coffee. With trembling hands, I folded my scrubs, a motion I'd repeated countless times. But this time felt different. Like I was packing away pieces of myself.

Who was I kidding? Maybe I was. 

Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back. I wouldn't cry here. I couldn't. I couldn't risk anyone seeing me become a sobbing mess.

"You did what you were told," everyone kept saying.

As if that helped.

It didn't bring comfort. Not when Daniel's face flashed in my mind-his wide, frightened eyes, his small hand clutching mine, and that moment the light went out of them.

The hospital called it "an unfortunate complication." His family called it "negligence." But to me, it was my worst mistake.

I could've fought back. I could've told them Dr. Keating was the one who barked the order and ignored my warnings. I had tried to tell him that the drug should not be administered to a nine-year-old.

But the truth didn't matter. The hospital needed someone to blame, and I was the perfect scapegoat.

I slipped my badge into my bag, avoiding the smiling photo. The woman in that picture had hope in her eyes. I didn't recognize her anymore.

"Abigail?"

The soft voice made me turn. Beth, Daniel's nanny, standing in the doorway. Her eyes were red and puffy, her blouse rumpled.

"He's asking for you."

My throat tightened. Last time. This may be the last time I saw him.

I followed her to the pediatric wing. Daniel's room was dim, curtains drawn. He sat up in bed, small shoulders squared, trying to be brave. His eyes were unfocused, but searching.

"Abby?" he whispered, breaking me in half.

My insides twisted. It felt like a vice was squeezing my heart. The tears I had struggled to keep at bay were on the brink of falling.

"I'm here, sweetheart." I sat beside him and took his hand.

"They said you're leaving. Because of me."

"No," I said quickly, voice cracking. "I'm not leaving because of you. The hospital made a mistake, and they're too scared to admit it."

"It wasn't your fault." His little jaw clenched with fierce certainty, fiercer than any nine-year-old should have to be. "I told them. I'll keep telling them."

Despite the ache in my chest, I forced a smile. "You be strong for me, okay? For Beth."

He squeezed my hand, his grip fragile but unrelenting. "If they hurt you...I'll hurt myself. I swear I will."

My heart seized. "Daniel, don't you ever say that." I cupped his cheek, guiding his blind eyes toward me. "You're going to be fine. You're stronger than anyone I know."

But guilt ate my insides like acid. Because no matter what he believed, no matter what the truth was,