Emma stood outside her mother's hospital room, her hand resting on the door handle. The sterile smell of disinfectant and the soft beeping of medical equipment filled the air, a stark reminder of Diana's fragile condition. Emma took a deep breath, pushing aside thoughts of her conversation with Tom that night and the looming work crisis. She would focus on her mother.
She pushed the door open gently. Diana was propped up in bed, looking pale and tired, but her face brightened at the sight of her daughter. "Emma, sweetheart," she said, her voice weak but warm.
"Hey, Mom," Emma said, moving to her mother's side and leaning in for a careful hug. "How are you feeling today?"
Diana waved her hand dismissively, a gesture so familiar it made Emma's heart ache. "Oh, you know, same old, same old
