A lump formed in my throat and I struggled to hold back my emotions. I glanced over my shoulder at Harith’s room, where doctors were still working to help him. He looked so small and fragile, caught in a struggle he didn’t deserve. A strange feeling rose within me—something I couldn’t quite name, but it hurt all the same.
Beatrix’s tearful eyes were locked onto me, full of accusation and sorrow. Her hands still clung to my arm, shaking as she tried to steady herself. She took a shaky breath, her gaze never leaving mine.
“If you had any compassion, you’d understand what it feels like to fear for your child,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “To know that their life is hanging by a thread.”
Her words hit me hard. For a moment, I felt her pain—her fear for Harith’s life. A part of me wanted to reach out, to comfort her, even if just for a moment. But then, I thought of Adeline, my own daughter, lying in a hospital bed, needing me. My heart twisted painfully, torn between these two children caught in a situation neither of them could control.