"Here," Liza extends a cup of coffee towards Rayan. 

He takes it, but instead of drinking, his fingers absentmindedly trace the rim, like he's searching for something hidden just beneath the surface. The warmth of the cup seeps into his skin, but he is lost somewhere far beyond this moment.

"Why are you so stressed? Everything is fine," Liza's voice pulls him back, her hand slipping over his.

Before he can respond, an alarming beep cuts in their conversation. In an instant, Rayan is on his feet, the coffee cup forgotten as it clatters onto the platform. He moves with the speed of pure reflex to the machine like his entire world depends on it.

Samhita is lying inside the machine, still and quiet. Rayan's eyes flick over the monitors that are tracking heart rate, pulse, respiration, temperature—all reading normal. Yet none of that calms the knot of dread twisting tighter in his gut.