The VIP hospital ward exuded an air of luxury and tranquility. Soft, ambient lighting bathed the room in a warm glow, casting gentle shadows across the elegant furnishings.
The scent of fresh linen mingled with a faint, sterile aroma. High-tech medical machines hummed quietly, their screens displaying vital signs with precision. An IV drip stood beside the bed, its rhythmic dripping the only sound breaking the silence.
Noran sat at Shuri's bedside, his hand clasping hers tightly. His eyes never left her face, taking in every detail of her serene, albeit unconscious, expression. If not for the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the warmth of her hand, she could have easily looked like she wasn't alive.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Roy entered.
He took in the scene, his gaze settling on Noran's haggard appearance.
Noran had lost weight; his once vibrant skin was now ghostly pale, and his lips cracked and raw from constant biting.
