Inside the ICU, Idris lay motionless on the hospital bed, his strong arms diminished by tubes and wires that seemed to swallow him whole.
Machines beeped steadily at his side, while the doctors moved around, doing their best to keep him stable.
Arwen stood outside, watching him. Her vision was still blurred with the traces of tears she had shed earlier. Her father —the man who had once stood so tall, so untouchable by many —now looked frail and vulnerable.
"Ms. Quinn, you should sit now," Robin said softly as he stood beside her, a step behind. "You have been standing for more than two hours. Your —"
"It's alright." Arwen shook her head, her gaze fixed, never moving from the glass window. "I am fine."
Robin stared at her, his expression complicated. All these days, he had seen Idris worry endlessly about his daughter, and today, it was the daughter who was consumed with worry for him. If his boss knew it, Robin thought, he would have felt peace.
