Waylenâs gaze wandered toward the window, where the world beyond was shrouded in a veil of heavy snowfall.
His voice, gentle and laden with longing, resonated through the room.
âThe night sky wears a snowy gown, and our children must be frolicking in delight.
Rena, if you could awaken, Iâd take you back home.
Weâd sip on warm milk and watch as our little ones fashion snowmen, their laughter ringing through the crisp air.
â
His fingers brushed Renaâs cheek tenderly, her skin cool to the touch.
A wave of emotion surged within him, the weight of his heartbreak threatening to overcome him.
Tears welled in his eyes, a silent testament to his sorrow.
A profound ache pierced his chest, and he leaned close to Rena, his lips grazing her neck as he whispered, his voice heavy with anguish, âRena, the doctor speaks of your potential awakening tomorrow morning, but I cannot bear even a momentâs wait.
â
Fear clung to him, a relentless shadow that refused to dissipate.
Closing his eyes was a risk he couldnât afford, for it might mean missing the exact moment her eyelids fluttered open.
As the hours gave way to dawn, the sun cast its golden glow upon the world, but Renaâs slumber remained unbroken.
Her body temperature seemed to be lower.
Morning arrived, cold and crisp, a stark reminder of the worldâs relentless march forward.
Korbyn returned to the hospital, exhaustion etched on his features.
He shed his frost-ki*sed coat, its fabric heavy with the weight of the nightâs labor.
Silently, he approached Renaâs bedside, his gaze searching for a sign of change.
With a hushed murmur, he broke the stillness.
âHas Rena awoken yet?â
Waylen shook his head, his eyes never Leaving Renaâs form.
Breakfast arrived, a gesture of concern from Korbyn who recognized the toll Waylenâs vigil had taken.
âYour mother is tending to the children.
They donât know about the accident yet,â Korbyn informed softly, his gaze filled with understanding.
Noticing Waylenâs eyes still fixated on Rena, Korbyn patted him on the shoulder, a comforting touch meant to reassure.
He urged, âYouâve suffered blood loss and exhaustion.
You must eat, for you cannot care for Rena on an empty stomach.
â
Waylen nodded.
He ate quickly and sat on the edge of the bed to keep her company.
He continued to talk to her.
He told her about the kids and wanted her to wake up.
Korbyn knew that Waylenâs mental condition was abnormal, but he could not persuade Waylen as well.
If it was him who was involved in this accident, he also couldnât maintain composure.
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The doctorâs return brought with it a pang of anticipation.
Yet, the sorrow etched on his face conveyed the harsh reality.
Waylen rose from his seat, his question punctuated by the weight of his concern.
âDoctor, what if Rena doesnât wake?â
The doctor, faced with Waylenâs determination, offered a measured response.
âThe fetus would be the first to be affected.
But if the coma persists, it could have significant consequences on Mrs.
Fowlerâs health.
â
Uncertainty hung in the air, Renaâs fate precariously balanced on the edge of her will.
As the doctor departed, leaving the room immersed in a heavy silence that only the sound of the snowflakes genty falling could be heard.
Korbyn approached the window, his own heart weighed down by the situationâs gravity.
Rena was his beloved daughter-in-law as important as Cecilia in his mind.
Thinking of what might happen in the future, he couldnât help but shed tears.