Chapter 2

Hours bled into one another, marked only by the shifting phases of Leo's pain. Sometimes he was quiet, drifting in and out of consciousness, and other times he would cry out, a sound that tore through me. I kept talking, a constant stream of nonsense, because the sound of my voice seemed to be the only thing keeping him tethered to me.

Then, I heard it.

A distant scraping sound. Voices. Muffled, but undeniably human.

Hope surged through me, so powerful it made me dizzy.

"Leo, do you hear that? Help is coming, buddy! They're here!" I shouted, my voice renewed with adrenaline. "WE'RE IN HERE! HELLO! WE'RE ALIVE!"

The scraping grew louder, closer. I could hear the crunch of boots on rubble, the organized shouts of a rescue team. The sounds were a miracle.

And then I heard a voice that cut through the chaos, a voice I knew better than my own.

"We need to clear this section! Check for voids. Be systematic!"

It was Sarah. My wife. Dr. Sarah Miller, one of the city's top emergency room physicians. Of course, she would be here. This was her world, her calling.

Relief washed over me so intensely my body went limp. She would find us. She would save us.

"SARAH!" I bellowed, using every last bit of air in my lungs. "SARAH, IT'S DAVID! WE'RE IN HERE! LEO IS WITH ME!"

Through a small crack in the debris near my head, I could see a sliver of the world outside. Flashing lights, dust motes dancing in the beams of powerful flashlights. I saw a figure in a yellow hard hat and a jacket with "PHYSICIAN" stenciled on the back. It was her.

She was ten feet away.

My heart pounded with frantic hope. She had to have heard me.

But then another voice called out, weaker, but closer to her.

"Sarah... over here..."

Sarah's head snapped in that direction. Her entire posture changed. She moved with a speed and desperation that I hadn't seen from her in years.

"Mark?" she cried out, her voice tight with a panic she hadn't shown for me. "Mark, is that you?"

Mark. Dr. Mark Johnson. Her "soulmate" from college, as she'd once drunkenly called him. The reason our marriage had been a cold, empty shell for the past three years.

I watched through the crack as she scrambled over a pile of broken concrete, her flashlight beam landing on a man pinned by a fallen bookcase. His son, Ethan, a boy Leo's age, was huddled next to him, crying but seemingly unharmed.

"Oh my god, Mark," Sarah breathed, kneeling beside him. She immediately began assessing his injuries, her hands moving with professional calm, but her voice was thick with emotion. "Are you okay? What hurts?"

"My arm... I think it's broken," he groaned. "And my chest..."

"Rescue team!" Sarah yelled over her shoulder, her voice commanding. "I've got two survivors here! Adult male with a suspected broken arm and thoracic trauma. One child, conscious and alert. Get the backboard and a C-collar, now!"

She completely ignored my direction. She prioritized him.

I stared, disbelieving, as the rescue workers she commanded swarmed the area around Mark. They started clearing the rubble, their focus absolute.

"SARAH!" I screamed again, my voice raw with betrayal. "WE'RE HERE! LEO IS HURT! HIS LEG IS CRUSHED!"

She paused for a fraction of a second. I saw her head turn slightly in my direction. Our eyes might have even met through that tiny opening. There was no recognition. Just a flicker of annoyance, as if I were a distraction from her real priority.

She turned back to Mark, placing a reassuring hand on his uninjured shoulder. "Don't worry, Mark. I'm here. I'm going to get you and Ethan out."

Ethan, Mark's son, looked over in our general direction. His eyes, wide and scared, seemed to lock onto the space where we were trapped.

Sarah, her back still to me, asked him, "Ethan, sweetie, are there any other kids nearby? Did you hear anyone else?"

The boy hesitated, his gaze fixed on the rubble pile I was under. Then he shook his head.

"No," he said, his voice small. "It's just us."

The lie hung in the dusty air, as heavy and suffocating as the concrete pressing down on my back.

Sarah accepted it without question. "Okay. Let's focus on getting you two out."

I watched as she personally supervised their rescue, her attention unwavering. I watched as they carefully lifted the bookcase off Mark, strapped him to a backboard, and carried him away. I watched as Sarah scooped Ethan up into her arms, hugging him tightly, whispering words of comfort.

She walked right past us without a second glance.

The hope that had flared so brightly just moments before died, leaving behind the cold, black ash of betrayal. She had heard me. And she had chosen him.