I couldn't remember when I'd last slept. The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room cast shadows under my eyes as I kept my vigil at Seraphina's bedside. My body ached from sitting in the same position for too long, but I couldn't bring myself to move away from her. Not even for a moment.
The steady beep of the heart monitor was both a comfort and a torment – each sound confirming she was still with us, yet the unchanging rhythm a reminder that she wasn't getting better.
Dr. Reynolds entered the room, his face betraying nothing as he checked her vitals and made notes on her chart. I watched his every movement, searching for any sign of hope.
"How is she?" I asked, my voice hoarse from disuse.
