–Sophia–
My stomach nearly dropped when the monitor showed I was losing my husband.
I gripped the railing, knuckles whitening, as I looked down—watching them revive him while the operation continued. Voices overlapped in sharp, controlled commands. Doctors moved quickly—almost scrambling—but no, not panicking. Never panicking.
Everything they did was precise. Measured. Almost effortless.
As if they were pulling him back from the edge of death with invisible threads.
"Sophia."
But the world had narrowed into a single, suffocating point. I couldn't hear—couldn't think—couldn't even feel the air in my lungs.
"Sophia."
I was pulled out of my silent heart attack when I looked up at Dmitri.
"Gather yourself. Breathe," he said firmly. "Sit down."
He guided me to the chair, his grip steady.
"Remember—he's fighting. And you have a baby within you."
My hand instinctively moved to my stomach.
