INT. GREY SLOAN MEMORIAL – HALLWAY – NOON

JO
(to the kids)
See you in a bit kiddos.
Love you.

LUNA
Bye Mommy. 

The elevator doors slide closed.
Jo stands still for a beat, staring ahead.
The sounds fade — children’s voices, soft laughter, Maureen’s gentle reminders, Eric’s steady presence.

Silence rushes in to replace it.

Jo exhales and turns to head back toward Link’s room.
Then, just barely, she falters.

She places a hand against the wall. Not to stop herself from falling — just to steady the weight that suddenly has nowhere else to go.

A wave of dizziness passes through her.
Her shoulders drop a fraction.

Her eyes close for a second too long. 

She breathes. Slowly. Intentionally.

A nurse passing by slows, noticing.

NURSE
(soft, careful)
You okay?

Jo straightens immediately. Muscle memory.

JO
Yeah.
Just… tired.

The nurse studies her for a beat.

NURSE
You don’t seem okay.
Sit down for a bit.
 
Before Jo can protest, the nurse guides her to sit.

JO
I’m okay.
Just pregnancy dizziness.

Deep down, she knows that’s not all of it.

NURSE (CONT’D)
Do you want some water?
Or something with sugar — it might help.

JO
It's okay.
I'm okay.

The nurse nods, accepting the answer without pushing.

NURSE
Take your time before getting up.
I’m right here if you need anything.

She offers a look that says I see you, then moves on.
Jo stays seated for another breath.
Then another.

Finally, she stands, squares her shoulders, and walks back toward the room.

FADE OUT.