The sterile air of the hospital was thick with tension as I, Regan, and Valerie sat in silence, waiting for news about Aria. Each passing minute felt like an eternity, the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall mocking our helplessness. Every now and then, one of us would glance toward the double doors leading to the operating theater, hoping for some sign of the doctors.
It was then that Claire and Owen arrived. Claire's face was pale, her usually composed demeanor cracked with worry. Owen looked equally distraught, his eyes red and puffy as though he'd been crying.
"Magnus," Claire asked immediately, her voice trembling, "how is my daughter? Is she…"
"She's still in the theater," I said, standing to meet her gaze. "But she's stable for now. The doctors are doing everything they can. She'll be fine, Claire. I promise."
Claire exhaled shakily, nodding, but I could see the doubt etched across her face.
