Figure it out!”

Several patients turned in their seats to watch her outburst, and the intake nurse behind the plastic window stopped typing on her keyboard.

Ethan looked at Sylvia without backing down.

“She is four months old, Mom.

I am staying right here.”

Sylvia stood frozen in row three, her mouth pressed into a thin line as her eyes darted back and forth between us.

“You are letting your anxiety destroy four years of hard work at that company,” Sylvia said, adjusting her heavy handbag strap again.