
The fluorescentabove the emergency room bed flickered in a cold, mechanical rhythm, matching the sharp pulses of pain tearing through my chest. I tried to steady my breathing, but every inhale felt like pressing broken into my ribs. Nurses moved quickly around me, their clipped voices merging with the distant roll of gurneys and the shrill ring of hospital Yet the only voice I focused on was my father’s—steady but impatient—as he stood at the foot of my bed, checking his watch more often than my face.
“Dad,” I managed, clutching the side rail as another bolt of pain ripped through me, “please don’t leave yet.”