I woke again when the soft click of the door announced someone entering. My eyes, still heavy with sleep, lifted instinctively. The doctor stepped in, his face calm but professional, clipboard in hand. The fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow across the room, but all I could see was the ache in my chest, the hollow weight of fear still lingering.

“Mrs. Stone?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” I said, my voice brittle. “How… how is she? My daughter?”

He gave a small, reassuring nod. ...