*Grandmother Wuchen's POV*
Three days.
Three entire days had passed since the accident.
Grandmother Wuchen had lived through brutal business wars, complex political disputes, and bitter family betrayals. She had buried her husband years ago, and later, her own son—Bael's father—keeping a straight back and a completely calm expression through every tragedy because she believed that someone in the family had to remain standing when everyone else collapsed. She was the anchor of the Wuchen name.
But nothing in her long life had prepared her for watching absolute silence swallow an intensive care room for three endless days.
She stood inside the quiet room, her old hands folded neatly in front of her. The rhythmic, dull sound of the cardiac monitor filled the space, steady and unchanging.
*Beep.*
*Beep.*
*Beep.*
