Adam sat at Ava’s bedside, fingers loosely entwined with hers. The steady beep of the monitors filled the sterile hospital room like a metronome counting the days he’d been waiting. He kept scanning her face, searching for the tiniest flutter, a blink, a sigh, anything.
“Ava,” he whispered, voice ragged, raw. “I’m not tired of waiting. But I’m tired of living in a world without you. Please… wake up.”
The door eased open. Daphne stepped in, her heels quiet against the linoleum. She crossed the room and dropped into the chair beside him, folding him in.
“How are you holding up?” she asked, worry carved into every line of her face.
Adam pulled back, eyes ringed dark. “I’m not fine, Mom. I need Ava. I need her back.” The words landed like they always did — steady and terrible.
“Adam,” Dap
