The room is sterile, a cool quiet broken only by the soft hum of machines lining the pale blue walls. The faint scent of disinfectant hangs in the air. This sterile environment stands in stark contrast to the joyous memories swirling in my mind. Just three days ago, I stood beside Benjamin at the altar, vowing to share a life filled with love and laughter. Now, he lies motionless in a large adjustable bed with soft white sheets.
An IV stand beside him holds clear bags of fluids that drip into a thin tube disappearing under the covers. A monitor displays his vital signs - a constant reminder of the fragile hold he has on life.
A mechanical pump gently inflates and deflates leg cuffs, a constant whir against the silence. A soft call button rests within reach, a beacon of hope for when he awakens. Dimmed lighting allows for a peaceful atmosphere, but there's also a brighter overhead light for examinations. Curtains around the bed offer privacy for changing linens or procedures.
Tears well up in my eyes as I reach out to touch Benjamin's face, tracing his cheek with a trembling hand. My heart aches to see him so still. I force back a sob, the fear of appearing weak a constant battle.
A single tear escapes, rolling down my cheek. I wipe it away with the back of my hand, then take his hand in mine, seeking comfort in his warmth.
Hospitals have always filled me with dread. The sterile smell and the stark white walls shatter my usually optimistic spirit. Yet, here I am, tethered to this room, clinging to hope.
As I hold Benjamin's hand, I close my eyes and a memory surfaces. Laughter fills the air as I see my parents, young and carefree. My mother beams in the rearview mirror, her smile contagious.
My father chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Honey," my mom teases, playfully tugging at his ear, "Our daughter is growing up so fast!" I giggle from my car seat, clutching my beloved unicorn teddy.
"We'll be there soon enough, Olivia!" my dad calls from the front, his voice laced with amusement. "Grandpa has tons of food waiting for us!"
Suddenly, the memory shifts. Blinding headlights pierce the darkness, followed by a terrifying squeal of tires. Panic replaces laughter. My mother screams, her voice laced with urgency. The world explodes into chaos, and then... darkness.
"Mrs. Johnson?" A voice cuts through the fog of my memory. I open my eyes, startled, to see Dr. Jerry, Benjamin's doctor, standing beside me. My hands tremble as I rise. "Dr. Jerry," I manage, my voice choked with emotion. "I apologize, I was just trying to compose myself. Is there something you need to discuss?"
Dr. Jerry studies me through his glasses, a hint of concern in his eyes. He glances at the nurse beside him before speaking. "There's no change in Mr. Johnson's condition," he says gently. "We're here to check on him. Unfortunately, we can't predict when he'll wake from his coma. Just keep holding on, Mrs. Johnson." He offers a sympathetic smile then exits the room.
A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I return to my vigil beside Benjamin. Seeing him like this tears at my soul.
My phone pierces the silence. It's Benjamin's father. My hand trembles as I reach for it, the weight of his potential words a heavy burden.
With a deep breath, I silence the call, not yet ready to face that conversation. The phone lands with a soft thud in my brown leather bag, a silent reminder of the whirlwind that brought me here.
Three months ago, amidst the stress of planning Benjamin's favorite singer's concert, I received a call from him. His voice, uncharacteristically nervous, requested my presence at his favorite coffee shop. Little did I know, that seemingly ordinary afternoon would change the course of my life forever.
YOU ARE READING
VIRTUES UNDER A VEIL
General Fiction"Virtues Under a Veil" is a captivating exploration of wealth, power, and the dark side of ambition, perfect for readers who enjoy a thrilling family drama with a touch of social commentary.
