When I arrive at the hospital, Michelle is sitting next to the stretcher, her gaze fixed on Candace, who is sleeping with her brow slightly furrowed in pain. I approach silently, trying not to disturb the room's quiet.
“How is she?” I ask in a low voice.
“They're operating on her early tomorrow,” she replies without taking her eyes off her daughter. “The fracture is clean, but she needs a plate to stabilize it. She'll have to stay off the ice for many months.”
I sit beside her. For a moment, we say nothing. The only sound is the machines marking Candace's heartbeat, a cold, steady rhythm. Then, Michelle speaks, as if she'd been holding back the words all this time.
“When I saw her fall… it was like being torn in two. I felt everything I went through again. The pain. The helplessness. T
