Aisha was washing her hands when it started.
At first, it felt like a pulse—odd, deep, as if her wrist had its own heartbeat. She frowned, staring at the water running over her fingers.
“That’s weird,” she murmured.
Then the heat came.
She yelped softly, jerking her hand back as pain flared beneath her skin. It wasn’t like touching something hot. It was sharper. Deeper. As if something inside her wrist was burning outward.
“No—no, no,” she whispered, panic rising. “Not again.”
She rubbed at her wrist frantically, breath hitching. “It’s stress,” she told herself quickly, repeating the words she’d been given. “That’s all. I’ve just been… anxious.”
The pain spiked.
Aisha cried out, gripping the edge of the sink as her knees weakened. Tears blurred her vision.
“Stop,” she whispered, s
