David
The day began in the suffocating quiet of the hospital ward. The sterile walls, the rhythmic beeping of monitors, and Laura’s silence were the only constants. She was still in recovery, confined to a wheelchair, and staying in the gynecology ward under close monitoring. I hadn’t slept much the night before—how could I? She was just feet away from me, but she might as well have been on another planet.
When I finally stirred, I noticed her sitting by the window, staring out with an expression I couldn’t read. Her hands rested on the armrests of the wheelchair, her posture rigid, as though she were holding herself together through sheer willpower. The morning light illuminated her pale face, and despite everything, she looked like she belonged in a Renaissance painting—strong, distant
