White hospital lights.
Blood on blue gloves.
A monitor
screaming.
A man shouting his name.
Someone saying, *You followed protocol.*
Someone else saying, *Protocol doesn’t bring her back.*
Ethan pushed harder.
“Come on.”
Another cycle.
Then—
Victoria coughed.
Diane gasped.
Ethan immediately checked her pulse.
There.
Faint.
Rapid.
But there.
“We have a pulse.”
Diane covered her mouth.
A sound went through the cabin—not applause, exactly, but a collective release of breath from dozens of strangers who had forgotten they were holding it.
Victoria coughed again.
Her eyelids opened.
Confusion first.
Then fear.
Then recognition.
She saw Ethan.
“You…”
“Don’t talk.”
“You stayed.”
“I said I would.”
She closed her eyes.
Ethan touched her shoulder.
