Emma’s hand trembled as she stared at her phone, the headline burning into her eyes: Golden Dove Under Fire.
Her chest tightened. Her lungs felt heavy. Every heartbeat hammered in her ears like a drum of doom. No… no, this can’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.
The phone rang, shrill and urgent. She jumped, her nails digging into the edge of the table.
“Emma Smith?” The hospital nurse’s voice was clipped, professional. “It’s Evan. He… he needs the surgery immediately. Can you get here?”
The words hit like a bullet. Her stomach dropped. She stumbled back, her chair scraping harshly against the floor.
“I’ll… I’ll be there,” she gasped, voice shaking.
She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, but her legs felt like lead. Her mind raced, chaotic, unrelenting: How? How am I
