As if panic had not already rooted itself inside her chest the moment she recognized that ring.
The woman in the bed gave a weak cough.
Clara froze.
She had not heard that sound in almost eight years, but memory snapped into place instantly anyway. Some sounds never leave the body. That cough had once echoed through narrow apartment walls at midnight. Through hospital corridors. Through endless winters Clara had spent pretending she was not afraid.
Slowly, the figure beneath the blanket turned her head.
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