The hospital smells like antiseptic and fear, a sterile assault that burns my nose as I sit in the waiting room, my hands twisting in my lap. The lights buzz overhead, too bright, making the clock’s ticking feel louder than normal in my skull. It’s 8:47 a.m., hours since Dad’s heart attack turned our world upside down. Mom’s beside me, her eyes red-rimmed, clutching a tissue like it’s a lifeline. Her dark hair, usually neat, is a mess, and her whispered prayers in our island’s dialect fill the silence. I want to comfort her, but my own heart’s pounding, stuck on Dad’s ashen face, his hand gripping mine as the paramedics wheeled him away.“Scarlett,” Mom says, her voice hoarse. “He’ll be okay. He has to be.”I nod, but my throat’s too tight to speak. The image of Dad slumped in his recliner, gasping, won’t leave me. Lee Family Kitchen, their dream, our anchor, it’s killing him. The fifty-thousand-dollar debt to Blackwood Industries, the interest piling up, the foreclosure looming it’s
Last Updated : 2025-11-24 Read more