It wasn’t necessary.
He held his gaze with such a hard calm that the other hesitated.
At that moment the paramedics entered.
One woman and two men.
They brought the equipment and the haste of someone who already knows they are late.
—Female patient, unconscious, weak pulse—Alexander said, stepping back just far enough.
The paramedic leaned over the bed.
He checked pupils.
Pulse.
Breathing.
He looked at the stained sheet.
And his expression changed.
—I need a stretcher now. Right now.
The other two acted immediately.
Lucia began to sob so loudly that she could barely stand.
“Is he going to die?” he asked.
No one answered him right away.
Because everyone was fighting against that possibility.
While they were preparing the woman, the paramedic lifted her hospital wristband slightly and frowned.
—She was discharged five days ago after a high-risk delivery… who checked on her afterward?
Silence.
He looked at the man.
—Are you the husband?
-Yeah.
—Why didn’t you take her back to the hospital when she started bleeding?
He stood up.
—Because they exaggerate everything. She was always weak.
The paramedic looked at him with a clean, professional disdain.
“She wasn’t weak. She’s in septic or hemorrhagic shock, and she may be like this because someone decided to let her rot in a bed.”
The words struck the room.
Lucia covered her mouth.
Alejandro, who didn’t usually feel hatred so quickly, felt it.
Cold.
Exact.
The paramedics lifted the stretcher.
The woman let out a very faint sound.
Barely a groan.
But Lucia heard it.
He ran alongside her.
