Noah
The sterile corridor stretches before me, an endless purgatory of white walls and flickering fluorescent lights. My footsteps echo hollowly as I pace, each one a desperate prayer. Irina, my love, my life—her fate hangs by a thread, and I cannot walk this infernal path.
"Any news?" I ask a passing nurse, my voice hoarse from disuse.
She shakes her head, lips pursed in sympathy. "Not yet, sir. The doctors are still working."
I nod, throat tight, and resume my relentless march. My mind whirls with memories of Irina—her laugh, her smile, the warmth of her skin against mine. Now she lies cold and still, fighting for her life. The thought sends a chill through me, and I shudder.
The waiting room looms ahead, a crucible of shared misery. I pause at its threshold, steeling myself before
