The sound of Giulia's hospital bed wheels echoed through the cold corridors like a sentence. Only a few minutes had passed since they took her for tests, but every second away from her felt like an eternity. The absence of her voice, her curious gaze, her sweet little way — everything hurt more than I could bear.
Isabella was by my side, her hand squeezed tightly in mine as if our connection could keep us steady in the middle of that hurricane. I felt the slight tremor in her fingers, but she said nothing. She just remained there, steady for me, for Giulia, for us.
"She's going to be okay," she said, in a low whisper, almost like a prayer.
I nodded, without much conviction. I wanted to believe. I needed to believe. But fear had already settled in my chest.
"She's so listless," I murmur
