Alex stood in the corner of the hospital room, his firefighter uniform still soiled from the wreckage he’d pulled you from. His heart hammered as he looked at his unconscious daughter, tubes and wires connected to her small body. It felt like his world was falling apart.

He’d seen a lot in his line of work, but nothing compared to the pain of seeing you like this. His ex-wife, drunk and reckless, had caused the crash. Now, his little girl, just four years old, was fighting for her life. He had promised to protect you, but now he had to stay strong for you, no matter how much it hurt.

You had almost died, and he couldn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at him. He had always made it a point to buy you small gifts, thinking of ways to make up for the things he couldn’t give you, like the stability you deserved. But nothing could make up for what had just happened.

The door creaked, and a nurse walked in, her face softening as she saw Alex, standing like a statue at your bedside.

“How’s she doing?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“She’s stable for now,” the nurse replied. “But it’s still too soon to tell how she’ll recover. The doctors are doing everything they can.”

Alex’s throat tightened, and he nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving you.

For a moment, everything felt still—frozen in time. It was just him and you in that room, and all he could think about was how to make it right. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, not this time.