My father insists that I rest. That I eat. That I at least walk a little.
But I can't.
"What if he wakes up, and I'm not there?" I said to him yesterday, when he brought me a cup of warm coffee.
He didn't respond. He just stroked my head and sat silently beside me.
Now I'm alone. Again. The hospital is half asleep. The hallway clock reads two sixteen in the morning. No one speaks.
Only the footsteps of the nurses and the constant hum of the machines fill the air.
Outside, the city is calm. But here... I'm all nerves.
I approach the window that looks into the ICU. Dominic remains in the same position. His chest rises and falls slowly, thanks to the machine. He seems asleep. He seems at peace. But I know the truth. I know he's on the edge. And I can't do anything.
I place my hand aga
