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Strained.
Emma moved quickly, her calm dissolving into urgency. She reached her older daughter first, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. “Breathe,” she said softly, though her own heart had begun to race. “Slow down. I’ve got you.”
But the breathing didn’t ease.
Each breath seemed tighter than the last, as though something invisible was pressing against her chest. The sound of it — shallow, uneven — sent a wave of fear through Emma that she couldn’t ignore.
She dropped to her knees beside her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice barely holding steady now.