The drive to the hospital was fast. The roads were clear, but my heart wouldn’t slow down.
We rushed through the entrance.
Bright lights hit my eyes—sharp and unforgiving. My head throbbed instantly. Footsteps pounded across the floor. Nurses spoke over one another. The air felt loud, urgent—nothing like the controlled quiet of psych.
Then I saw her.
Anna.
She was on a stretcher, an oxygen mask strapped to her face. Blood stained her hair, dark against her pale skin.
I stopped walking.
Everything inside me went still.
Caleb and I followed them toward the neurosurgery wing. August had already changed into his surgical gown.
“Is my OR ready?” I heard him ask while scanning a chart.
“Yes, doctor.”
“She’ll be fine, Maya,” Caleb said beside me.
I needed to see her. I couldn’t just s
