THIRD PERSON:
Lily drops to her knees beside the bed, arms wrapping around Vergil’s torso as sobs wrack her body. Her fingers clutch at the hospital gown. She buries her face in his chest as though the force of her grief could bring his memory back. Vergil remains still, unsure of how to console her. His heart aches badly, and he silently beats himself for the pain of the woman whom he can barely recognize.
It hurts to know she may be his wife, and he has no clue.
“Why… why are you crying?” he asks in a low tone, hoping it doesn’t break her further. She lifts her tear-stained face, which does nothing but drive more ill feelings into his chest.
“This can’t be real,” she whispers. “You said you loved me this morning, Vergil. You held me like you meant it, and you promised home before sun
