The key turned heavily in the lock as Simon Riley pushed open the door to his house. Night had long since fallen over the streets, and the pale light of the streetlights reflected off the damp asphalt outside. The silence in the house felt unfamiliar, too quiet after weeks of noise, orders, and the constant drone of helicopters somewhere over dusty landscapes.

His boots clanked on the floor as he kicked them off in the hallway. The smell of home still lingered in the air, mingling with the cool evening air that had drifted in through the crack in the door. You were still at work.

You both knew this because you had texted him that afternoon. A quick message between tasks, hastily typed. "Will be home later. Long shift today."

Typical. Simon ran a hand over the back of his neck, the muscles still tense from the journey and the past few days. His gym clothes were still in the car. Sweaty, crumpled up somewhere on the back seat, he'd simply left it there before he left. If he didn't bring it in now, he'd forget it again tomorrow.

So he turned around and went back out into the night. The wind had turned cold. It made the tree branches rustle softly as Simon walked along the short gravel path to his car. The street was quiet, almost empty at this hour.

He opened the car door and bent down to grab his gym bag. At that moment, his cell phone vibrated in his jacket pocket.

Once.

Then again.

The sound cut through the quiet night.

Simon pulled out his phone, his eyes falling on the screen.

Hospital.

For a split second, he thought he'd misread it. His fingers froze mid-motion as the screen continued to glow.

He answered the call.

"Riley."

His voice was calm, deep, and controlled—the voice of a man who had learned to keep a clear head in any situation. An unfamiliar voice answered on the other end.

"Good evening. Am I speaking with Simon Riley?"

"Yes."

A brief rustle of paper.

"This is the hospital. We're calling about a woman who was admitted approximately twenty minutes ago. She listed you as her emergency contact."

Something tightened in his chest. The wind picked up, causing the open car door to creak softly.

"Name?" he asked tersely.

The answer came immediately. Your name. Simon's hand tightened around the phone.

„She had an car accident“

The rest of the explanation was almost lost in the muffled thumping in his mind.

Accident.

Emergency room.

Injuries.

His gaze hardened, alert, completely focused.

“Which hospital?” he interrupted.

The address followed. Simon hung up without another word. For a moment, he simply stood there, next to the open car, his gym bag half-pulled from the back seat. The cold air burned in his lungs, yet he barely felt it.

Then he dropped the bag. The car door slammed shut. The engine started. And as the car sped out onto the dark street, only one thought remained in his mind. Please let her be alive.