Damien’s POV

The cold tiles of the hospital corridor echoed my restless footsteps as I paced from one end to the other, the lights above humming like an orchestra of unease. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and something deeper than fear and helplessness. Every breath I took was shallow, uneven, like my body refused to obey the rhythm of calm.

On the wooden bench nearby sat Clara’s sister, her hands twisted tightly in her lap. She wasn’t weeping loudly , her sobs were quiet, ...