The hospital room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. The rhythmic beeping of machines filled the air, but this time, the tension had loosened its grip. Brian lay on the bed, his eyes closed, though not for much longer, as his surgery had finally been scheduled. The doctors were hopeful, but the uncertainty still lingered like a shadow over the Daniel and Rowland families.
Lisa sat beside him, her hand resting on his. His once lifeless fingers now squeezed hers gently, a sign of how far they had come. His recovery had been nothing short of miraculous; after over a year of silence, Brian could finally speak again.
"You're looking at me like I'm about to disappear," Brian said with a soft chuckle, his voice no longer weak but still with a rasp that spoke of the long months of disuse.
