Ever tried to remain composed as she sat on the edge of the hospital bed, her hands pressed firmly against her stomach, trying to calm herself. She knew the importance of staying calm, especially now that she was carrying another child. The stress, the emotions, all of it could affect her baby.
"Everything will be fine," she whispered to herself, though it hardly sounded convincing. She clenched her fists, pushing aside the swirling thoughts of guilt and fear. She couldn't break down now. She wouldn't. Not with so much at stake.
Just as she took a deep breath, the door to the ward opened, and the doctor entered, his face grim.
"Ms. Miller, I'm afraid Isla's injury is more serious than we initially thought. She has broken her arm in several places, and if we don't act fast, she could lose functionality in that arm. She will need surgery. It's the best option to ensure she'll regain full use of it in the future."
