The corridor leading to the ICU felt endless, a sterile tunnel of white walls and muted light. The air smelled of antiseptic, as if even the scent of life had been scrubbed away. Maya's footsteps echoed as she followed the nurse, her hands trembling around her phone. Her brother's voice was still on the line, distorted by static and panic. She hung up without saying goodbye, her fingers too numb to press the button properly. Damien stayed a half-step behind her, his presence quiet but steady like a shadow that refused to leave.
A small group of people clustered near the nurses' station. A man in a white coat was flipping through a chart. "Where's the family of the patient?" he asked, scanning the hallway.
"I'm here," Ethan answered sharply, stepping forward. "We're her children."
Maya shoved the phone into her bag and quickened her pace. Damien slowed his stride just enough to let her go first, but his eyes stayed on her as if ready to catch her if she stumbled.
Another voice rose from the bench near the wall, deep and familiar. "I'm her husband," their father said, straightening his back.
Maya's breath hitched. Her eyes snapped to him. "Ex-husband," she said before she could stop herself. The word landed like a slap in the quiet corridor.
The doctor's expression stayed neutral but his eyes flicked between them. "Let's speak somewhere more private," he said quietly, motioning to a quiet corner near the end of the hallway. Machines hummed behind the ICU doors, faint beeps echoing like distant clocks. The four of them followed, their footsteps muffled by the polished floor. Maya could feel her pulse in her throat.
When they stopped, the doctor drew in a careful breath. "Your mother was admitted unconscious with severe physical collapse brought on by extreme stress," he began. "She's currently in the intensive care unit. We've stabilized her for now, but her condition is critical. The next twenty-four hours are crucial for her survival."
Maya's knees weakened. Ethan's arm shot out to steady her, but she shrugged him off and pressed a hand to the cold wall. The doctor continued, his tone low but firm.
"She's suffering from an acute stress-induced cardiomyopathy -- sometimes called broken-heart syndrome. The heart muscle weakens severely under prolonged stress. If she stabilizes in the next twenty-four hours, her chances improve. If she doesn't…" he paused, letting the unfinished thought hang heavy in the air. "We'll be monitoring her minute by minute."
He let them absorb the words before asking gently, "Has she been under significant stress recently? Any family or work pressures you're aware of?"
Ethan swallowed hard. "She's been worried about Maya," he admitted. "Always asking when she'll come home, always saying she just wants to see her happy again. She… she hasn't been sleeping."
Maya's eyes stung. "Don't put this on me," she whispered.
Their father's voice snapped like a whip. "Who else, Maya? She's been tearing herself apart over you. You've done nothing but distance yourself. You think I don't see the calls she makes, the messages you ignore?"
"That's rich coming from you," Maya shot back, her voice rising. "You were the one who left us! You broke her!"
The corridor seemed to shrink as their words bounced off the walls. Ethan stepped between them, palms out. "Stop it. Both of you. This isn't the time."
The doctor cleared his throat softly but firmly. "Right now, your mother needs all of you calm and united. She'll be moved for another round of tests soon. I'll allow you to see her briefly, but only one at a time and only for a few minutes."
Maya turned to him, her lips trembling. "Can I go first?"
"Of course," the doctor said. "A nurse will come for you when she's ready."
She nodded, then felt a hand brush lightly against her elbow. Damien's voice came quietly, steady but not claiming. "What did he say exactly? I didn't hear everything."
She repeated the doctor's words, her own voice sounding far away to her ears. When she stopped, Damien's gaze stayed on her. "You're not alone in this," he said softly. "I know it feels like the world's falling apart, but she's in the best hands right now. You've done what you can. Breathe. Just… let yourself lean for a second."
The warmth in his tone didn't erase the panic in her chest, but it gave her something to hold onto. She closed her eyes, exhaling a shaky breath. "I can't lose her," she murmured.
"You're stronger than you think," he said. "But you don't have to carry it all by yourself. Not right now."
A sudden commotion at the end of the hall broke their fragile stillness. Footsteps pounded on the tiles. "Maya!" a voice called.
Logan appeared, breathless, eyes darting between faces. He rushed up to her, his expression frantic. "Are you okay? What happened?"
Her annoyance, already raw from her father's accusations, flared. "What are you doing here?" she snapped. "This isn't your place."
"I called him," Ethan said quickly. "You weren't answering. I didn't know what else to do."
Logan raised his hands in a calming gesture. "I'm here because I heard your mother's in the hospital. I just wanted to..."
"Leave," Maya cut him off, her voice shaking. "Just leave."
"I'm not leaving," Logan said, his jaw set. "Not until I know you're okay."
The corridor went quiet again, everyone staring at each other as the ICU doors clicked open and a nurse stepped out with a clipboard. "They're ready for the first visitor," she said.
Maya felt every eye on her. Her heart thudded. She took a step forward, but the ground felt unsteady beneath her feet. The nurse's expression was unreadable. Behind her, the beeping of machines rose and fell like distant waves.
She drew in a breath, caught between Damien's steady gaze, her father's simmering anger, Ethan's worried eyes, and Logan's refusal to leave. The nurse held the door open wider.
Maya's fingers curled into fists at her sides. She wasn't sure if she was walking toward her mother or toward something else entirely as the door creaked on its hinges and the corridor fell into a heavy, waiting silence.