Cassandra sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror across the room. The breakfast she had made earlier was barely touched, and the cheerful front she had put on for Derek was beginning to c***k. As soon as Derek had stepped out to make a quick call to Michael, the weight of her fears began to settle in.
Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the edge of the bed, her mind racing with the possibilities. Ben was stable, but still unconscious. The doctors were hopeful, which terrified her. Every passing moment increased the chances of him waking up, and if he did, he might remember everything.
She replayed the day of the incident in her mind, as she had done countless times before. The push, the dull thud, the way she had watched in shock as Ben’s body had crum
