The night shift is dragging. It’s a little past 2 a.m., and the emergency department has settled into that strange, humming lull where the monitors seem louder than the people. You, in your second year of residency, and your intern each cradle a paper cup of coffee gone cold hours ago, promising yourself the next one will be fresh. From down the hall, the automatic doors hiss open, and you hear a woman’s voice, tight and urgent, before you see her.