Chapter 153 – Estela POV
I check into work, same as always. Sling my bag over the hook near the office entrance, smooth my shirt, and greet the others with a tired but genuine smile.
Routine.
Simple.
Safe.
"Morning, Estela."
"Hey, good morning."
But then—
One of the ladies rushes toward me, her face pale and tight.
"Estela—" she breathes, "it's Mary."
My heart drops. "What happened?"
*
I don't remember the drive.
I just remember the cold fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway, the antiseptic sting in my nostrils, the shaking of my hands as I demand the room number. I think I left my bag in the car. I think I forgot to lock the door.
I rush in.
And freeze.
Mary.
Lying there.
Unconscious.
Her face is bruised. A deep violet blossoms around her eye. Her lip is split. Her arms—bandaged. Her fingers—scraped and swollen.
I cover my mouth with one hand.
There's a machine beeping steadily beside her, a slow, cruel rhythm that says she's alive, but only just.
