On an ordinary, sunlit afternoon in Cedar Falls—a day that felt almost too peaceful, the kind that makes parents lower their guard—two little girls wandered through a field behind their home, plucking wildflowers with the kind of carefree delight only children can summon. Emma watched them from a short distance, smiling at the sight of their tangled hair and grass-stained knees, believing this moment would be one of those soft, golden memories that stay with you forever. But all it took was a handful of blossoms, one innocent brush against their skin, for that picture-perfect afternoon to twist into something nightmarish. Within minutes, the laughter turned into coughing. The coughing turned into gasping. And as both sisters’ tiny bodies weakened in frightening synchrony, Emma felt the world tilt beneath her feet. Her heart fractured with every second that passed—the wildflowers scattered on the ground, the girls clutching at their throats, the air suddenly too thin. Yet in the middle of that panic, in the middle of her mind begging her to freeze, she made one instinctive, life-saving choice that changed everything.
