Mila's cries echoed down the corridor, her small fists thudding desperately against the heavy door. Even after Elena's arrival, the fear that had rooted itself in the dark room refused to let go. The memory of that darkness—so suffocating—clung to Mila like a shadow, making her sobs all the more heartbreaking.
Outside, Elena's heart ached for the little girl. She knelt close to the door, pressing her palm flat against the wood as if she could bridge the distance between them, willing her warmth and reassurance to reach Mila. Her voice was gentle, laced with concern and love. "Don't cry, baby. I'm here. I'll bring you out, I promise. Don't worry, sweetheart."
