The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the stark reality that had become Levi's world. It had been ten days since Lyse had slipped into the coma, ten days of agonizing waiting, ten days of clinging to the fragile hope that she would open her eyes again.
The vibrant, sunny essence of her presence had been abruptly replaced by a suffocating silence, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines that sustained her.
Levi had left the hospital only once and he had hurried back, fearful that she would wake up and be scared to be surrounded by all the machines. He had barely left Lyse's side since then. The small, uncomfortable chair beside her bed had become his makeshift home.
