Chapter fifty one

Agony. A searing, white-hot pain that stole the breath from my lungs and clamped down on my chest with the relentless grip of a vise. My scream, a raw, primal plea torn from the depths of my being, shattered the fragile peace of the evening.

My parents, their faces etched with a terror I had never seen before, scrambled around me. Their hands fluttered uselessly, unsure of where to land, and what comfort to offer in the face of this relentless torment. Samuel, ever the protector, his face pale and drawn, held my hand, his grip fierce yet somehow gentle. His warm touch was a beacon in the storm of pain, a silent promise of unwavering support.

"Help! Get the doctor!" My mother's voice, usually so calm and collected, was a frantic shriek in the confines of the room. It was a stark contrast to the chilling silence emanating from Damian, who stood frozen by the door, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. Was it worry? Helplessness? Or something else entirely?