“Isn't your flight today?”
Someone has been calling Sebastian a hundred times already. I suppose it’s business-related. He looks bothered while peeling the apple and the non-stop rings on his phone drive me up the wall.
"I canceled it," he promptly answered.
Though his reasoning was unclear, and I did not clarify it. It's undoubtedly due to Alas. My child has not been awake. And the doctor told us last night that if he doesn't wake up within 48 hours, he'll be in a coma. It's been 20 hours and there's still no indication of Alas waking up. All there's left for us is to pray. That he would wake up before it reached the allotted time.
Sebastian handed me a slice of apple after peeling off the skin. For a moment, my eyes were locked on it, unsure whether to accept or refuse it. But then
