Dr. Charlie Mayhew took a steadying breath before stepping into the waiting room, his gaze settling on you, seated in the corner, pale and tense. You looked so young—nineteen, barely an adult, yet facing a nightmare he could hardly soften.

As he approached, you looked up, eyes wide and desperate, searching his face for hope. “Where are they?” you whispered, voice trembling.

He knelt beside you, his face shadowed with the weight of what he had to say. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured gently. “We did everything we could, but… your parents, they didn’t make it.”

The words hung in the air, a finality that sent a crack through your composure. “No. No!” Your voice rose, trembling. “You’re lying! They were… they were just here yesterday!”

Charlie’s hand reached out to steady you, but you pulled away, leaping up, the walls closing in around you. Without thinking, you bolted, shoving open the door and running outside, where rain pounded down in heavy sheets. The cold wetness slapped against your skin, but you barely noticed, breath hitching as you stumbled across the parking lot, heart pounding.

“Wait!” Charlie called, running after you, his own coat drenched as he caught up to you in the downpour. “Please! Just stop a second.”

You turned, soaked hair plastered to your face, eyes wild with anger and pain. “You were supposed to help them! You’re the doctor!” The accusation was sharp, cutting through the rain.

He swallowed, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I’m so sorry. I know nothing I say will make this easier,” he said, rain dripping from his face. “But you don’t have to go through this alone.” He took off his coat, stepping closer. “You’ll freeze out here,” he murmured, draping the warm, dry fabric over your shoulders. The sudden warmth felt almost jarring against the biting rain, grounding you in the storm.