"Don't move," her father said. "Find somewhere to sit down, keep Sophia warm, and don't move from that spot. I'm coming to get you both."
Claire nodded, though he couldn't see her, sinking gratefully onto a nearby bench positioned just outside the hospital's entrance, adjusting Sophia's blanket with trembling hands. "Dad, I'm sorry, I should have called you months ago, I should have told you things weren't—"
"Claire." Her father's voice cut gently but firmly through her spiraling apology. "None of that matters right now. What matters is getting you and my granddaughter somewhere safe and warm. We'll talk through everything else later."
She pressed the phone tighter against her ear, letting his steady, reassuring tone settle over her frayed nerves like a physical warmth, a stark contrast to the cold efficiency Marcus had shown just minutes earlier.
"I've got about twenty minutes of driving ahead of me," her father continued. "Are you somewhere safe to wait?"
"Yes," Claire managed, glancing around at the busy but well-lit hospital entrance, other visitors moving past without a second glance at the crying young mother on the bench. "We'll be here."