“Doctor, we’re losing her!”
But Daniel didn’t move.
Not yet.
His mind had already gone somewhere else.
A stormy night.
Rain against the windows.
A smaller room.
A smaller hand slipping from his.
“I’m sorry…” he had whispered back then.
The machine had gone flat.
And he had never forgiven himself.
Back in the present—
The girl pulled him closer with the last strength she had.
“You promised…” she breathed.
Daniel’s hands trembled.
“I—I couldn’t save you…” he whispered, more to himself than to her.
The nurse shouted, “We need to go, NOW!”
But then Daniel saw it clearly.
The name on the bracelet.
Faded.
But still there.
Not the girl’s name.
Another one.
A name he hadn’t said in years.
His chest tightened.
“This isn’t possible…”
The girl’s grip loosened.
Her breathing faded.
“Save me… this time…”
Silence seemed to swallow everything.
And then—
Daniel moved.
Fast.
Precise.
Unstoppable.
“Get her to OR NOW!” he shouted.
The team snapped back to life.
As the stretcher rushed forward again, Daniel didn’t look away from the child.
Because this time—
he wasn’t just fighting for a patient.
He was fighting for the past.
And he was not going to lose her again.
