The voice on the other end of the line seemed to echo through my very soul as I listened, frozen in disbelief. Orange Blooms Hospital. The words hung heavy in the air, ominous and foreboding.

My heart pounding in my chest, I managed to stammer out a response. “Yes, this is Mr. Mullins. What… What happened?”

The voice on the other end explained that my son had been involved in a serious accident. They urged me to come to the hospital immediately.

I don’t remember much of the drive to the hospital. The world seemed to blur around me as my mind raced with thoughts of my son. Guilt gnawed at me like a relentless beast, consuming me from the inside out.

When I arrived at the hospital, I was ushered into a waiting room where a nurse informed me that my son was in surgery. The minutes stretched into hours as I sat there, consumed by regret and anguish.

Finally, a doctor emerged from the operating room. I leaped to my feet, my heart in my throat as I awaited his words.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mullins,” he said gently, his voice tinged with sympathy. “Your son… He’s in critical condition. We’re doing everything we can, but…”

His words trailed off, lost in the deafening roar of my own despair. I sank into a nearby chair, my world crumbling around me.

In that moment, I realized the full extent of my actions. My misguided attempt to control my son’s life had led to this tragedy. I had put my own selfish desires above his dreams, and now he was paying the price.

As I sat there, grappling with the weight of my guilt, I made a silent vow. If my son pulled through, I would do everything in my power to make things right. I would support him, no matter what path he chose, and I would never again let my own fears and insecurities dictate his future.

But as I waited for news of my son’s fate, I couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of remorse that threatened to consume me. I could only hope and pray that he would forgive me for the unforgivable.