SILAS’S POVThe heavy, suffocating scent of antiseptic, rubbing alcohol, and industrial floor cleaner always had a way of turning my stomach, but today it felt like it was actively choking me. I stood frozen in the middle of the pale green corridor, the harsh, buzzing glare of overhead fluorescent lights reflecting off the white linoleum tiles like a mockery of daylight. Down the hall, the constant beep of cardiac monitors drifted out of the secure nursery doors, a sound that had been the soundtrack to my nightmares for sixty plus days.I stared at the heavy glass partition of the neonatal intensive care unit, my hands trembling so violently that the metal zipper of my jacket clinked against itself in a frantic, irregular rhythm. I tried to swallow, but my throat was completely dry. My face felt entirely devoid of color, my eyes hollowed out by two solid months of sleeplessness, terror, and a desperate, suffocating anxiety that had kept me trapped in a living hell.I was just a man d
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