Ethan stood frozen in the middle of the aisle, holding his coat in both hands, looking back and forth between his mother and his wife.

I stepped right into the narrow space between them, blocking Ethan’s view of his mother.

My left thumb moved to my silver wedding band, pressing the metal firmly against my knuckle until the skin turned pale.

“June has a fever of 104.1 degrees,” I said, keeping my voice flat and precise, using the exact clinical tone I used when reporting vitals during an emergency intake.

“Her heart rate is elevated, and she’s breathing forty-eight breaths per minute,” I added, looking straight into his eyes.