Lily found herself living in a nightmarish blur as the days melted together, each hour tainted by a gnawing anxiety that refused to release its grip. The attacks came in quick succession, leaving her barely enough time to catch her breath between each new crisis. She often caught herself staring at shadows, jumping at unexpected sounds, her world having shifted into something unrecognizable yet terrifyingly real.
The first attack struck on what had begun as a perfectly ordinary Tuesday morning. Lily had followed their usual routine, sharing a quiet breakfast with Chris at their sun-filled dining table. She'd straightened his tie – a small gesture that had become their private morning ritual – and kissed him goodbye, tasting the mint of his toothpaste and the faint bitterness of his coffee. From their bedroom window, she had watched him walk toward his car, admiring how the morning light caught his brown hair and highlighted the confident set of his shoulders in his charcoal suit.
