Vincent
"I need to see my wife," I demand.
The doctor nods and motions me to follow her.
As I follow the doctor, my heart races with worry. We enter the room, and I see Sarah lying in the bed, surrounded by beeping machines and wires. Her skin is pale, and her eyes are sunken. She looks frail and vulnerable, not like the bubbly and vibrant woman I know.
"She's in critical condition. The birth was complicated, and she lost a lot of blood. We've transfused her, but her body is struggling to recover," the doctor says.
I feel a lump form in my throat as I approach Sarah's bedside. I take her hand, and it feels cold and limp. I squeeze it gently, hoping she can sense my presence.
"Don't leave me, I need you," I whisper, trying to hold it together.
The machine beeps faster, and the nurse
