Late-afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting warm golden lines across the white blanket covering Emily Carter.

The heart monitor continued its calm, steady rhythm while the ventilator whispered softly in the background. Everything looked exactly as it had looked for hours.

Everything… Except Ethan. He walked to the bedside slowly, almost reverently, as though he had rehearsed this moment in his mind a hundred times before arriving.

Dr. Collins remained near the doorway. She didn’t want to interrupt. Neither did Michael.

Ethan carefully placed the silver music box beside his mother’s hand.

For a long moment, he simply looked at her.