Third person's POV
The hospital room was pretty quiet, the lights were dimmed to a soft warmth that did nothing to ease the cold air circulating through the vents. The only sound was the steady, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor beside the bed, sharp, constant, impossible to ignore. Every beep felt like a reminder that something fragile was being held together by wires, medication, and hope.
Liora sat in the chair closest to her grandfather, her fingers resting gently over his hand. His skin was thin, pale, and cool beneath her touch. She kept her grip steady, afraid that if she loosened it, she would lose him again, the way she had almost lost him earlier. Her shoulders ached. Her back was stiff. Her eyes burned from exhaustion she refused to acknowledge. But she didn’t move.
