**The Day They Died**

I'll never forget this day, the day my world came crashing down. It's etched in my memory like a scar that will never fade. I woke up early, feeling a sense of excitement and nervousness. The four hotels, my loving husband, and I had plans to go out for dinner that night. We had just finished a lovely breakfast together, and I was busy getting ready for the day. They were lying in bed, looking at me with their bright, loving eyes. As the day went on, I noticed that they seemed a bit off. They kept saying that something wasn't right, that they felt a sharp pain in their stomach and a terrible weakness. At first, I thought it was just a minor bug, but as the pain and weakness intensified, I knew something was seriously wrong. I tried to call an ambulance, but my hands were shaking so hard that I could barely dial the numbers. They took my hand in theirs, holding it tight as I struggled to get the phone to work. "Noa, my love," they said, their voice weak but full of love, "don't worry, we'll be okay. We just need to get to the hospital." Their pulse was getting slower and slower, and their face was becoming paler by the minute. I was screaming, "Please, hurry! My husband is dying!" but my voice seemed to be coming from outside my body. They looked at me with sad eyes, their gaze filled with a deep sorrow. As the paramedics arrived, they were still holding my hand, their grip weak but determined. I was crying, screaming, and begging them not to leave me. But it was too late. Their eyes went wide open, and their hand slipped away from mine. They died in my arms, surrounded by the love and life we had built together. The paramedics tried to revive them, but it was no use. They worked on them for what felt like an eternity, but they couldn't bring them back. I was in shock, my mind numb and my body frozen. I remember being taken away in an ambulance, but I don't recall much of what happened after that. The hospital staff told me later that I had been in a state of shock for several hours, unable to process what had happened. When I finally came to, I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by sterile white walls and the beeping of machines. I was alone, with no sign of the four hotels. Panic set in as I realized that they were really gone. I had to find them, to bury them, to say goodbye. But as I looked around the empty hospital room, I knew that something was off. Where was their body? Who had taken them away? I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that someone had done something to them. But who? And why? I knew I had to find out, but for now, I was left with only tears and questions. As I lay there, trying to make sense of it all, I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the four hotels. Where was their body? And who had taken them from me? The not knowing was killing me, and I knew I had to find out. But for now, I was alone, with only my grief and my questions.