Ethan followed her down a quiet corridor lined with closed doors. The air grew heavier, the silence interrupted only by the soft rattle of a distant cart. His pulse thrummed in his ears. She stopped at a door near the end. “She’s inside,” the woman murmured.
Ethan stepped in and froze. Lina sat in a chair, their tiny daughter bundled in her arms. Tears streamed unchecked down her face. On the bed beside her lay an elderly man, eyes closed, skin pale. A stillness in the room signaled the finality of death.