Chapter 84 The Story

• The sterile smell of antiseptic hung heavy in the hospital room, mingling with the faint hum of machines that tracked Clara’s fragile heartbeat. Darren sat on the edge of the narrow visitor’s chair, his hands clasped tightly between his knees. Clara’s chest rose and fell slowly under the oxygen mask, her skin pale against the crisp white sheets. She was asleep, but every shallow breath felt like a fragile promise he couldn’t let break.
• His mind raced in circles, hospital bills, medications, endless tests. How was he supposed to pay for all of this? Their mother had passed only weeks before, leaving them with grief that still choked the air, and now this. Darren’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t let Clara suffer. He wouldn’t. Not if he could do anything to prevent it.
• A quiet knock at the door made him tense. A doctor appeared, clipboard in hand, pausing in the doorway. “Mr. Dodds?” he asked, his tone formal, professional.