The city was drowning in a downpour. Rain hammered against the hospital's glass windows, the rhythmic tapping a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding inside the emergency room. Dr. Evelyn Carter pulled off her gloves, sighing in exhaustion after a successful eight-hour-long surgery. A glance at the clock told her it was nearing midnight, but the hospital never slept.

She had barely taken a step towards the exit when a commotion from the emergency wing caught her attention. Nurses rushed past her, whispering urgently.

"Two kids—found on the streets—barely breathing."

Evelyn's feet moved before she could think. Pushing open the doors, she was met with a sight that made her breath hitch.

Two small children, no older than three, lay on a single emergency bed, their tiny bodies trembling violently under soaked clothing. Their hair clung to their pale faces, their eyes wide with fear. The boy and girl clung to each other with all their strength, refusing to be separated despite the efforts of the medical staff.

A nurse gently pried at their fingers, but they whimpered, tightening their grip.

"They won't let go," a doctor murmured.

Evelyn felt something stir in her chest. Without thinking, she stepped forward. Kneeling by their bedside, she spoke softly.

"It's okay. No one is going to take you away from each other. You're safe now."

The boy blinked up at her, his lips trembling. The girl, barely able to keep her eyes open, curled closer to him. Slowly, hesitantly, their rigid bodies relaxed.

And then—

"What do you think you're doing?"

The sharp voice sliced through the air like a scalpel.

Evelyn turned, only to be shoved aside by a rough, bony hand. A stern-faced woman, dressed in a damp, ill-fitted coat, loomed over the children, her lips twisted in irritation.

"They belong to me," she spat, grabbing their arms with a force that made them cry out. "Ungrateful brats, stop your nonsense!"

The girl whimpered. The boy held on tighter, his tiny hands shaking.

Evelyn stood frozen, anger curling in her gut.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

The woman scoffed. "Their caretaker. From Greenfield Orphanage. These little rats ran off and got themselves lost."

Something about the woman's demeanor made Evelyn's skin crawl. But before she could speak, the hospital intercom crackled to life.

"Dr. Carter, emergency in OR two. Dr. Carter, report immediately."

Her hands clenched at her sides. She looked back at the children, their red-rimmed eyes filled with something that looked terrifyingly close to silent pleading.

But duty called.

And so, with one last glance, Evelyn turned away, not realizing that this moment—this encounter—was about to change everything.

Forever.