Asher had seen it all before. The controlled chaos of the ER, the hurried footsteps of nurses, the scent of antiseptic mingling with the metallic tang of blood—it was routine. He pulled on his gloves, checking the chart for his next patient. Another case, another trauma, another life to save.

"Doctor, incoming trauma," a nurse alerted, her voice firm but urgent.

He looked up just as the paramedics wheeled in a gurney, the patient hidden under a blanket. The paramedics were moving fast—too fast. This wasn’t a minor injury. Asher frowned, already bracing himself for what was to come.

“What do we have?” he asked, stepping closer, preparing for the familiar rush of adrenaline.

“Female, late-twenties, found unconscious. Vitals unstable—"

The words faded as Asher’s world suddenly tilted. The glimpse of pale skin, the familiar hair tousled in disarray, a necklace he knew too well. His heart stuttered in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. No. It couldn’t be.

He ripped off the blanket.

It was her.

His wife lay before him, pale and still, her face too calm for the storm raging inside him. The hospital’s noise dissolved into silence, and for a moment, Ashee forgot how to breathe.

“Get me the crash cart, now!” His voice cracked, the doctor in him wrestling with the man who loved her. The room moved in slow motion as the nurses and staff jumped to action, but his focus stayed on her—on the woman he swore to protect, now broken in front of him.

"Come on, stay with me..." His hands trembled as they hovered over her, fear gripping him in a way no medical emergency ever had. This wasn’t just another patient. This was his life, lying on the brink.