Sharlene’s mind was in turmoil. She didn’t care that her husband was outside—her only focus was her child’s safety.

Have I been neglectful toward Ashley?
The question repeated endlessly in her head. Guilt pressed on her chest like a weight she couldn’t lift. She wanted to scream, to pull her hair, to punish herself for letting Ashley go on that field trip.

But she forced herself to stay calm.

When the news broke, it felt as if ice-cold water had been poured over her. Her heart nearly stopped. She couldn’t stop imagining what had happened at the school—children screaming, buses overturning, lives ending too soon. She had heard how some died instantly, others on the way to the hospital.

Ashley was among the severely injured. Seeing her daughter lying there—small, broken, and pale—tore her soul apart. She could barely recognize her own child. Her world had collapsed.

My God… please, not her.

“Tashia, please stay with your sister for a while,” she heard Vivianne say softly.

“I’ll head to their house to get some things—and buy food too,” Vivianne added.

“W–Wait, Vivianne, I—I have money here,” Sharlene said quickly, fumbling through her bag with trembling hands.

“Sis, keep that for yourself,” Vivianne replied gently, then left the hospital.

Sharlene sat in the waiting area, surrounded by the cries of other mothers. Each wail pierced her heart. She could feel their pain—because she was one of them.

“I’ll get some water. Stay here, okay?” Tashia whispered.

Sharlene only nodded. Her entire body felt weak, her mind foggy. The hospital echoed with grief and despair, and fear threatened to consume her.

Ashley… why did this happen?

Before the accident, Sharlene had noticed strange things. Ashley had been acting differently—appearing in her dreams, always wearing a white hospital gown. It was as if a part of her already knew. But Sharlene didn’t want to believe it.

This is my fault. If I hadn’t agreed, this wouldn’t have happened. Ashley, please… be strong. Fight. Don’t leave me.

She covered her face with both hands, trying to steady her breathing. The sounds around her faded until all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart. When she finally looked up, her gaze wandered to the hallway.

Other mothers fainted at the sight of their children. Some collapsed in despair. Sharlene felt her body begin to tremble uncontrollably. Her eyes stung, and for a moment, she thought she might lose her grip on reality.

Then—she saw them.

Children in blood-stained uniforms, walking beside their grieving parents.

She blinked hard. Am I seeing this? Or has my mind finally broken?

One girl, her face pale and unrecognizable, stopped in front of her.

“I can’t find my mom… help me,” the child whispered.

Sharlene couldn’t speak. She just stared.

The girl’s name tag caught her eye: Dela Cruz.

Sharlene’s breath hitched. She remembered hearing the name on the news—Bernadith Dela Cruz, a kindergarten teacher who had died protecting her students.

That’s her daughter, Sharlene realized.

“Mama? Mama, where are you?” the little girl cried again.

A moment later, a woman appeared beside her. Her face was clearer now—soft, calm, familiar.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” Bernadith said, her voice warm and gentle. She knelt down and embraced her daughter.

The little girl gasped, then clung to her mother, crying silently into her arms.

Bernadith looked at Sharlene and smiled—a sad, grateful smile.

Then, in a shimmer of radiant light, they both vanished.

From one of the nearby rooms came a desperate scream.

“Bernadith! Sarah! Don’t leave me!”

A man’s cries echoed down the hall. He knelt on the floor, clutching the lifeless bodies of his wife and child. Sharlene’s heart shattered at the sight.

Should I tell him they’re happy now? Would it matter?

“Sister, drink some water,” Tashia said, returning.

Sharlene barely had the strength to lift the cup. Tashia supported her gently, and she took a few small sips.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Tashia sat beside her as dizziness washed over Sharlene. But she refused to rest—Ashley needed her.

Moments later, a nurse approached, holding a clipboard.

“Mrs. Francisco?”

“Yes?” Tashia helped Sharlene to her feet.

“We need to transfer your daughter to the ICU,” the nurse said. “It’s on the fourth floor.”

Sharlene looked around for Martin, but he was still outside. She didn’t wait. Nothing else mattered but being with her child.

“The child’s condition is still delicate,” the nurse continued as they walked. “We’re monitoring her hourly. Sometimes her heartbeat weakens. Hopefully, she’ll wake up tomorrow so we can assess her recovery—and determine if surgery will be needed to remove the blood clot in her brain.”

The words hit Sharlene like stones.

“It’s a miracle she’s alive,” the nurse added softly. “We’ll do everything we can.”

Sharlene could only nod, her voice gone.

When the nurse left, she rushed to Ashley’s side. The hallway was quieter now; most of the chaos had faded, but the distant sound of sobbing still lingered.

A massive tragedy had struck their school. So many lives lost. Even the bus driver hadn’t survived.

But Sharlene couldn’t think about any of that now.

All that mattered was one thing—
Ashley needed her.