I’ve seen her stand in worse and not flinch.
So this—
The shaking.
The way her body is refusing to steady—
It doesn’t add up.
Something is wrong.
I sit beside her, watching closely, giving her a moment to catch her breath.
Her chest rises and falls too fast.
Too shallow.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
Weak.
The answer comes out quieter than I’ve ever heard from her.
“No.”
That single word tightens something in my chest.
She swallows, like even speaking is taking effort.
“I’ve…been feeling like this,” she admits. “For a few days now.”
My gaze sharpens. A few days. I don’t say anything immediately. Neither does she. But the silence between us shifts. Changes.
Because we both feel it at the same time. The realization doesn’t hit all at once. It creeps in. Slow. Unavoidable. My jaw tightens slightly.
Her breathing falters again. I look at her. Really look at her. And for the first time since this started, a completely different kind of tension settles in my chest.
“Valeria…” I say slowly.
She shakes her head immediately, like she can already see where my thoughts are going.
“Look, I don’t know, okay?” she says, her voice unsteady. “I don’t.”
I don’t respond.
I stand abruptly, shaky. The tension in my body has nowhere to go. I walk to the door and yank it open.
A guard is already stationed outside.
“Call the doctor,” I bark. “I want him here in an hour. Immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
He nods once and disappears down the hall without another word.
I shut the door.
