An Anchor in the Storm

VANESSA

The world became a blur of white coats and shouted orders as they took Fabian from Roman's arms. Medical terminology bounced off the walls—blood pressure dropping, transfusion needed, silver toxicity protocol. My son disappeared behind a crowd of nurses and doctors, his small body swallowed by their urgent movements.

I lunged forward instinctively, needing to stay with him. A nurse blocked my path, her hand firm but gentle against my shoulder.

"Ma'am, you need to let them work. Someone will update you as soon as possible."

"He's my son," I choked out, trying to see past her. "Please, I need—"

"The best thing you can do for him right now is let the doctors do their job."

Her words barely registered. I stood frozen, hearing the chaotic symphony of beeping machines and urgent voices. The scent of antiseptic mixed with the metallic tang of Fabian's blood that still coated my hands and clothes. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think beyond the terror gripping my chest.