The beeping of the monitors echoed around the room continuously. Ethan lay in the white bed with a small oxygen tube running across his face; his little hand clutched onto his teddy bear tightly, as if he was afraid it would slip away too.
Isabella sat beside his bed, red and swollen eyes suggesting a trail of tears. She had not left that chair since the time they arrived. Each breath Ethan took brought her a mixture of relief and pain.
"He's stable now," the doctor softly said, stepping into the room. "No internal injuries, just exhaustion and shock. He must have been terrified."
Isabella nodded, stroking the boy's hair with her hand. "Thank you, Doctor. See to it that he has everything he needs."
“We will,” he said reassuringly and then quietly left.
The moment the door closed, Isab
