ELENA'S POINT OF VIEW
As I approached the familiar apartment building, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. Everything looked the same, yet the air felt charged with an unsettling difference. I stepped out of the car, grateful to the driver Alex had sent, and walked toward the entrance, my heart pounding. This was my mother's apartment, the sanctuary Alex had purchased for her after her surgery, a haven that had brought us so much comfort just months ago.
But now? Now it felt like a refuge amid a tempest of chaos.
Once inside the elevator, my stomach churned with worry as it ascended to the third floor. Every day since that horrible night, I had visited desperately, needing to see my mother, to reassure myself that the trauma hadn't completely shattered her spirit.
The door swung open with a welcoming smile from Margaret, a kind nurse in her fifties. "Mrs. Reyes, your mother's been waiting for you."
"How is she today?" I asked, stepping into the airy living room.
