Days passed, and Lila was still unresponsive, trapped in the recesses of her mind. For the second day in a row, I found myself leaving the office at five and rushing over to the hospital.
Work was utter hell. I hated being away from her.
Nothing changed in the ten hours since I’d last been there. I walked into the room with quiet steps up to the bed. She looked so peaceful, like an angel. The constant beeping of the machines, along with the low rise and fall of her chest, put to rest the creeping fear that she was gone. I clung to each breath and beat.
She was still there, alive, and she would return.
I hoped.
My hand reached out to move a stray strand of hair from her face, but I stopped myself. It was one thing to see her, to smell her, and to feel her presence. It was another thing
