Camila's POV
I returned home exhausted after meeting with Miranda and went straight to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. As I leaned against the counter, I checked my phone and noticed that the message I had sent to Henry still hadn't been delivered. My heart sank.
The status showed it hadn't even been received.
That was unlike him.
Henry might have been incredibly busy, but he always found a way to reply to my texts even if it was something as simple as "Talk soon" or a thumbs-up. He cared. About me. About our baby. I knew that.
Was he still buried in work?
He had been dealing with a major project lately, so I tried to reason with myself that maybe he hadn't checked his phone yet. But the longer the message sat there, undelivered, the more my mind spiraled with worry. What if something had happened? What if he was in trouble?
