| The Silent Bloom |

Title : Coma world is real or...? 

The hospital's coma ward lay silent, its farthest bed reserved for the youngest patient—a little girl named Rose. She had slipped into a coma just hours after birth. Her mother had died during delivery, and for a year her father struggled to care for her. But after remarrying, he turned away, handing money to Dr. Shan, urging her to end the child's life.

Shan refused. Instead, she made him sign  legal document granting her full authority over Rose. Shan would cover every expense, if Rose were to die—naturally or during an experiment—she would bear no responsibility. Six years passed. Rose remained  same. Every report Shan read showed no progress, yet something about her fascinated the doctor.

When Shan had scanned Rose's brain for  first time, she discovered it was unusually active—far more alive than any other coma patient. If Rose ever woke, it would be Shan's greatest achievement. But in  present, Rose's body still lay motionless, giving no sign of awakening.

Then, another unusual patient arrived. A twenty-year-old girl who drifted between sleep and wakefulness. Some weeks she opened her eyes for hours, other times for days, before sinking into a state so deep it was classified as coma. She, too, was assigned to Shan.

Yet Rose's case was different. Though her body never moved, she felt everything—the prick of an injection, a mosquito's sting, even voices near her bed. When her eyelids were lifted, she memorized every face. But no one knew about the secret world she carried inside her—not even Rose herself. Inside, in a world of endless white, Rose lived.

----

In Rose's white world, she sat on the floor, stacking little blocks she had imagined into being. The silence was broken by a soft voice, low and tender.

"Can I join you?"

Rose looked around, startled. "Are you... talking to me?"

"Yes," the voice replied. "I'm talking to you."

"Who are you?" Rose whispered.

"My name is Voilet," came the gentle answer.

Rose frowned. "But... how can you speak to me? No one ever answers my questions. Not here."

Voilet's voice carried a strange calm. "I was given a gift. God sent me here for you."

"Can I see you?" Rose asked.

"Yes," Voilet said. And then, as Rose's eyelids opened in the real world, the girl's face came into view.

Rose smiled. "Now it's morning."

Voilet shook her head. "No, dear. It's evening."

Rose tilted her head. "I don't know about time... but I want to learn. I know other things, though—like this thing they push into me. It's called an injection." She laughed softly, listing every object she had named herself.

The two spoke endlessly in Rose's mind, while in the real world, Voilet simply sat beside her bed, fingertips brushing Rose's tiny feet—silent to everyone else.

To the nurses, Voilet was nothing more than a restless patient. She would sit for hours at Rose's bedside, gazing at the child's still face, her fingertips brushing lightly over Rose's tiny feet.

"She's disturbing the girl again," one whispered as they passed. "She doesn't even speak. She just... stares."

But inside Rose's silent world, it was different. The endless white space bloomed with laughter as Rose tugged at Voilet's sleeve.