It took a moment before others leaned in to see, skeptical but curious.
And then someone — no one could later remember who — gasped aloud.
“She is breathing!”
The atmosphere flipped in an instant. Shock replaced sorrow. Voices rose all around, trembling, overlapping:
“What’s happening—?”
“Call an ambulance, now!”
“Is this even possible?”
Richard stumbled to the coffin, his hands shaking violently as he reached for his daughter’s wrist. For a terrifying second, he felt nothing. But then — there it was. Faint. Feather-light. A pulse.
“She’s alive…” he whispered, his knees nearly giving out. “My God, she’s alive.”
The call to emergency services was frantic. Within minutes, paramedics arrived, wheeling in equipment. The sight of uniformed medics bending over Sophie’s body was surreal — just moments earlier, everyone had been preparing to bury her.
One of the paramedics, a young man with sharp eyes and a calm voice, checked her vitals quickly. “Weak pulse. Blood pressure’s low but stable. Let’s move — we don’t have time to waste.”
Margaret held onto Sophie’s hand until they gently but firmly guided her away. “Stay with her,” she begged the medic. “Please, just… don’t let her go.”
