Office

Max stood there, the nurse's words echoing in his mind. He looked back at Diana, lying fragile in the hospital bed. "She will be okay, right?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, sir," the nurse replied. "We washed her stomach. She’s stable now."

Max took a deep breath and exited the room, feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt. Francisco was waiting in the hallway, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and disappointment. Max pressed his hand against the wall and leaned his forehead on it, trying to compose himself.

"I told you to take care of her," Francisco said, his tone stern but not unkind.

Max exhaled heavily, the guilt etched deeply on his face. He couldn’t find the words to answer. Francisco had entrusted him with Diana's well-being, and he had failed. The weight of that failure was crushing.

Francisco observed Max, recognizing the torment his friend was in. He tightened his expression, understanding the gravity of the situation but knowing he had to maintain a