Sophia
The scent of antiseptic hit my nose the moment we stepped through the sliding glass doors of the hospital.
The faint hum of machines, the soft shuffle of nurses in pale uniforms, the low murmur of voices all of it pressed around me like an invisible wall.
For a heartbeat, I considered turning around and bolting back into the night.
But then Mrs. Ross’s hand squeezed mine.
Her touch was warm, grounding, steady. I hadn’t realized until then how tightly I’d been holding my breath.
My chest loosened, air rushing into my lungs as though she had reminded me that breathing was still possible.
“Come,” she said gently, leading me past the reception desk where she quickly filled in a form.
The receptionist’s eyes flickered briefly toward me, then softened when she caught sight of
