"Passenger Princess"

The bright rays of sunlight streamed into the office, casting warm patterns across the desk as Sarah leaned back in her chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. "Another boring day," she muttered to herself, her sigh almost imperceptible amidst the hum of activity outside her room. Moments later, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as the office peon gently placed a cup on her desk. She forced her usual smile—a polite facade she had perfected over years of corporate monotony—to acknowledge his effort. In truth, the gesture felt hollow, like much of her day.

Sarah pushed her feet against the tiled floor, causing her chair to creak and return upright with a faint squeak. She glanced at the towering pile of files in front of her. Mechanically, her eyes scanned the documents, but her mind was far away, lost in a whirlwind of worry. "My mother..." she murmured under her breath, the words barely audible but heavy with emotion. Frustration surged as she clenched her pen tighter, her thoughts circling back to the haunting words of the doctor.

Her mother had undergone bypass surgery two days ago. The doctor’s voice echoed endlessly in her mind: “Her condition is very critical.” Those five words played on an endless loop, a grim mantra that refused to be silenced. Unable to focus, Sarah rested her head on the desk, the cool surface grounding her momentarily. She closed her eyes, hoping to regain some composure, but the sense of foreboding was unrelenting.

The sudden buzz of her phone shattered the stillness, jolting her back to reality. She grabbed it with trembling hands. The voice on the other end was Jack, her mother’s caretaker. “We’re losing her,” he said, his tone shaky but urgent. Sarah froze for a split second, her brain refusing to process the words. Then, as if on autopilot, she grabbed her bag and dashed out of the office, barely pausing to inform her colleagues.

Standing on the sidewalk, she frantically booked a cab, her fingers fumbling as panic coursed through her veins. Every second stretched unbearably until the car finally pulled up. Without waiting for the driver to greet her, she threw her bag onto the back seat and slid into the passenger seat. “Drive faster—it’s an emergency!” she yelled, her voice breaking with desperation. The driver, sensing the urgency, hit the gas.

The city blurred past them, a cacophony of honking cars and bustling pedestrians. Sarah gripped the edges of her seat so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her mind raced as chaotic thoughts collided: What if I’m too late? What will I do without her? The tires screeched as the cab weaved through traffic, narrowly avoiding collisions. The urgency in her heart mirrored the chaos outside.

The car came to an abrupt halt in front of the hospital. Without sparing a second for payment, Sarah bolted through the glass doors, her heels clacking against the polished floor. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as she navigated the labyrinthine corridors, her only focus the ICU at the end of the hallway.

A nurse intercepted her just before she reached the door, her face grave. The words Sarah had dreaded finally escaped the nurse’s lips, each one like a dagger to her heart: “I’m sorry, but we lost her.” For a moment, Sarah stood frozen, the world around her coming to a standstill. Her chest felt impossibly heavy as though the air itself had turned to lead.

She stepped into the ICU, her legs trembling beneath her. There lay her mother, fragile and motionless, the faint hum of the machines around her a cruel reminder of life that had just slipped away. The silence in the room was absolute, pressing down on her like a weight. Sarah knelt beside the bed, her trembling hand reaching for her mother’s. It was cold. Tears streamed down her face, unchecked, as her world crumbled.

The brightest light in her life had been extinguished, leaving behind an emptiness she couldn’t fathom.