The hospital room had a plain and sterile look. It had white walls, bright but dull lights, and that clean, antiseptic smell in the air. In the center of the room, a woman in her fifties sat propped up on the bed, her back gently resting against the headboard. A thin, transparent drip line connected to her wrist, silently delivering the fluids she needed. A weak but reassuring smile played on her lips despite the frown on her son's face.
Jason, her eldest son, stood up from the chair beside her bed. His arms were tightly folded across his chest, a clear sign of his frustration. He couldn't believe that his mother had collapsed at home, and he was struggling to wrap his head around the fact that his younger brother, Anthony, hadn't shown the common sense to bring her to the hospital.
The butler had been the one to call the ambulance and even accompany the vehicle as Anthony claimed to have important school 'assignments'.
