Amira pov
Hospitals have a way of freezing time. The same sterile air, the same white walls, the same beeping rhythm of machines all existing in a loop that makes you forget the world outside. As I walked through the corridor, clutching a small bouquet of lilies, I could feel the weight of everything I’d been running from pressing against my chest.
The nurse at the reception gave me a polite nod. She recognized me instantly not because of who I was, but because of the tabloids. I saw it in her eyes, that flicker of curiosity she tried to hide. My face had been plastered on magazine covers and gossip pages for weeks The Contract Bride, The Scandalous Mrs. Cole, The Woman Who Sold Her Heart for a Ring.
I forced a small smile and kept walking.
When I reached my mother’s room, the door w
