Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 288

His phone lit up again.

This time, it was Daisy.

'Julian, are you still at the hospital?'

He typed: 'Yeah.'

Daisy: 'You are seriously the prime candidate for the system to label as non-compliant with rest.'

Julian: 'Are consultants policing doctors off the clock now?'

Daisy: 'Patient Consultants offer extended services.'

Julian read the text, a trace of a smile touching his eyes.

A moment later, Daisy sent another message:

'Did you see Wren today?'

Julian didn't reply immediately.

As if anticipating his silence, Daisy texted again:

'You don't have to explain. I'm just reminding you, what she needs most right now is room to breathe, not another person standing too close.'

Julian stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the keyboard.

'I know.'

Daisy replied with a single period.

Then another message:

'Every time you say 'I know,' I panic.'

Julian finally laughed softly.

He typed: 'I won't suffocate her.'

Daisy: 'And don't suffocate yourself into a hospital specimen either.'

Julian didn't reply to that.

He set the phone down. Outside, the night was pitch black, and the fluorescent lights in the hospital hallway burned with a sterile chill.

At 1:00 AM, a child was rushed into the ER for a post-op check.

The child was young and pale, brought in by frantic parents after complaining of chest tightness. Julian hurried over, running through the exams, questions, and monitors. By the time the routine was done, it was nearly 2:00 AM.

The mother wouldn't stop crying, and the father kept asking, "Did we do something wrong?"

The boy lay in the bed, his small hands gripping the sheets tightly, but his eyes never left Julian.

Julian lowered his voice. "You can tell me yourself where it hurts right now."

The mother instantly interjected, "His chest feels tight, and he said he was dizzy earlier..."

Julian frowned slightly as he read it.

He typed: 'What time did you sleep last night?'

As soon as he hit send, he felt it crossed the line.

But un-sending it would look even worse.

A few minutes later, Wren replied:

'A little after two. Leo woke up once during the night.'

Julian's fingers paused on the phone.

She didn't elaborate.

But he could picture it.

A six-year-old child, fresh off the trauma of the Open House, waking up in the dead of night. He probably asked for his mom, checked to make sure his name tag was still there, and asked a dozen questions that seemed small but weighed a ton.

Wren had to carry Stellaris during the day and care for the boy at night.

All while the Langford family continued to shove new fractures her way.

Julian looked down and typed.

'I'll send my notes once I've reviewed it. If you're coming to the hospital today, Daisy will be in the rehab room. You can grab her for a follow-up Patient Consultant interview.'