Owen's eyes cast downward, his gaze fixed on the crisp, white hospital sheets as he settled onto the bed, his movements weighed down by a sense of resignation. Doctor Kelvin stood at Owen's left with his back against the wall and arms folded across his chest. He exuded a sense of calm authority, a familiar steady anchor in the turbulent sea of Owen's emotions.
"How's Ashlyn doing?" Owen asked, his voice barely above a whisper as if he feared the answer might shatter the fragile equilibrium he had managed to establish.
Kevin's response was like a gentle reassurance, a soothing balm to Owen's frazzled nerves. "She's doing great," he said, his voice a warm melodious cadence that seemed to envelop Owen in a sense of comfort. "Her mum is all right, so of course, nothing is troubling her now." His words were carefully crafted as solace, a deliberate attempt to assuage Owen's concerns, but they only seemed to scratch the surface of his pain.
