Morning didn’t arrive clean; it pressed itself into the room in thin, steady layers, light slipping through the edges of the curtains, the low hum of traffic building underneath it, voices drifting up from the street. Rachel laid still, eyes open, aware that her thoughts had been awake long before the rest of her followed. Her brother came first. The doctor’s voice replayed itself without effort, careful, balanced, shaped to calm without promising too much.
Minor complication.
The words felt small until she held them for longer than they were meant to be held.
She turned her head slightly, staring at the faint outline of the ceiling where the light hadn’t fully reached.
“Hoy… por favor,” she whispered under her breath. The words came out soft, almost instinctive, like something borrow
