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THEN:

The sterile scentof the hospital mingled with the undercurrent of disinfectant and fear, wrapping around Sarah as she stood rooted in place by Victoria”s bedside. Beeps and whirs from the machines formed a mechanical symphony that underscored the medical staff”s urgent ballet. Their faces were masks of concentration, with occasionally furrowed brows betraying their confusion.

”Her pulse is there, but look at it—it”s like a whisper,” one doctor murmured, eyes fixed on the glowing monitor displaying Victoria”s heartbeat.

”Have we run a toxicology screen? What about an MRI?” Steven asked, his voice cutting through the soft shuffle of nurses” shoes on linoleum. He was pacing, a creature caged by his own helplessness, every fiber of his being radiating the urgency of his training. Sarah didn’t understand much of what was going on or why her daughter was suddenly so sick, and it frightened her so profoundly that it was hard to breathe.

Sarah turned to him, her eyes wide with worry, trying to decipher his rapid-fire jargon. ”Steven, what… what are they looking for?”

”Anything, Sarah. A reason she won”t wake up.” His hands sliced through the air as if he could physically grab the answers from the space between them.

”Shouldn”t they try…?” He cut himself off, rubbing his temples. It was clear he wanted to be on the other side—part of the team working to save his little girl.

A nurse adjusted a dial, and the steady beep of the heart monitor climbed an octave, pulling Sarah”s gaze back to the small form lost in the tangle of white sheets.

”Come on, Victoria. Please, baby,” she whispered, her mind a storm of silent pleas and bargaining prayers. The cold touch of the bed rail beneath her fingers felt like the only anchor in a world threatening to spiral out of control. Every beep was a lifeline, every hushed word from the medical team a potential harbinger of hope or despair.

”Have we considered encephalitis? Where are we with the lumbar puncture results?” Steven was relentless, each question a testament to his love and desperation.

”Steven…” Sarah”s voice trembled, unable to articulate the dread pooling in her stomach—the terror that maybe this time, his knowledge wasn”t enough.

”Hey.” He stopped his pacing and took her hand, his own trembling slightly. ”We”ve got to trust them. Okay?”

She nodded, squeezing his hand as though the pressure could somehow transfer her fears into him, where his clinical expertise might dissolve them. But deep down, both knew some fears were immune to even the most rational minds.

The room buzzed with activity, yet the silence within Sarah grew louder, a void where the sound of her daughter”s laughter used to echo. She clung to Steven”s hand, a lifeline amidst the uncertainty, her thoughts a mantra of hope that refused to be silenced by the ominous dance of the unknown. And that’s when the machine monitoring her heartbeat flatlined with a terrifying sound that cut through her bones.

“Victoria!” she screamed. “No!”