The beeping of the heart monitor was too steady, too calm—a cruel rhythm that masked the urgency behind each shallow breath Tanya took. The sterile hospital room was dimly lit, as if the world already knew how this would end. Outside, the wind tapped faintly against the windowpane, but inside, time felt frozen.
Marina stood at the foot of the hospital bed, her hands clenched in front of her chest, trying to hide their trembling. She had watched her best friend fade slowly over the past year, each day a little more frail, a little more absent from the world. Cancer had taken its toll, but Tanya had fought fiercely—mostly for her daughter, Verochka.
Now, all the fight had left her body, but not her spirit.
