The hospital corridor smelled faintly of antiseptic and overbrewed coffee — a scent that had long stopped registering in Siyana’s mind, though today it clawed at her nerves. Her feet moved in restless circles, tracing the same tiles over and over again as though pacing alone could alter fate. The dim fluorescent light flickered above her, painting her shadow in uneven patches against the pale blue wall. Her hands trembled slightly as she clasped them together, then unclasped, then brought them near her lips — a habit she never had before. Siyana didn’t bite her nails. She had never needed to. But today, fear was gnawing at her composure, inch by inch.

Her mother was in that room — the one with the sterile white door and the small glass panel that revealed nothing but shifting silhouettes inside. Every tick of the wall clock sounded louder than her heartbeat. Every passing second stretched painfully thin.