At the hospital…
Anne sat close to the bed, her fingers laced tightly around Augustine's, her eyes firmly set on his face.
"It's been a week," she whispered. "How long are you planning to sleep like this? Wake up… talk to me, please."
She searched his face, desperate for any sign—a twitch in his eyebrows, a shift in his breathing, anything. But he lay perfectly still, which made her ache. The tears she had been holding back spilled over, streaking down her cheeks.
"The company is in chaos," she added, forcing the words out between shaky breaths. "The board is already planning to appoint a new president. They are voting next week."
She choked with emotion. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she continued, "You have to wake up before then."
Her gaze stayed fixed on him, waiting, hoping. But he remained still.
