(Ayra's POV)
The room felt colder than it should have, even though the midday sun streamed through the large windows of Dr. Smith's office.
My heart raced, each thud echoing in my ears as I stared at the small bottles of pills on his desk.
The words he had just spoken were too heavy to process all at once.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Wrong prescriptions? But how? I've been so careful.
I always make sure her medication comes directly from the pharmacy we've used for years."
He shook his head. "Someone has tampered with your grandmother's medication. These aren't just ineffective—they could be harmful."
The room seemed to tilt for a moment as his words sank in. Tampered? Harmful?
"Do you think this was intentional?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He leaned back in his chair, his brows furrowed in concern.
