The doctor's words hung in the sterile air of the waiting room, heavy and suffocating.
The next twenty-four hours are critical.
The world outside the hospital doors ceased to exist.
There was no Apex United, no CostMart, no rivalry with Leo.
There was only the relentless, agonizing crawl of the clock on the wall and the suffocating fear that his mother might not wake up.
They sat in a silent, miserable huddle on the uncomfortable plastic chairs.
His father stared blankly at the floor, a hollowed-out shell of the man who had been so full of life just hours ago.
Sarah was a pillar of forced strength, making necessary phone calls to family members, her voice a strained, robotic monotone that threatened to shatter with every word.
And Ethan… Ethan just felt a profound, crushing guilt.
He kept replaying the day in his mind. He had been so consumed by his two worlds—the thrill of his first league victory, the anxiety of his first work shift.
