The First Voice I Heard Wasn’t Daniel’s
Beeping.
Steady. Rhythmic.
Hospital beeping.
I tried to move and my ribs screamed back at me.
My throat was dry. My head felt split open.
Then I heard shouting—deep, controlled, dangerous.
“If he comes near her again, I will personally put him on the floor,” a man’s voice said.
Ethan.
I forced my eyes open.
White lights. IV lines. Bandages.
Ethan’s face hovered over me, terrified and furious at the same time.
“Sarah,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
My first word was barely air.
“The baby?”
“Heartbeat is strong,” he said immediately. “They’re monitoring you. You’re hurt—but you’re here.”
I started crying so hard my chest hurt.
“Daniel?” I whispered.
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Arrested. I got there fast.”
He paused, eyes shining with rage he was actively managing.
“I kicked the door in. I found you on the floor. His parents were sitting there like it was normal.”
A nurse walked in, calm and direct.
“We have to file a report,” she told me. “And the police are already involved.”
My brain tried to resist—habit, fear, conditioning.
But Ethan squeezed my hand.
“You sent the text,” he said quietly. “You did the one thing that saved you.”
And then the officer added the detail that turned everything into a closed case.
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