The sterile hospital room was dim, lit only by the faint blue hue of the night lamp near the corner. Machines hummed softly, rhythmically tracking the small boy's pulse, breathing, and blood pressure. Louis lay still, curled beneath the white hospital sheets, his chest rising and falling in small, steady motions.
But as the clock ticked toward midnight, Louis's little lashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes.
The first thing he noticed was the silence.
He blinked.
No Silver.
No Lorenzo.
No soft humming from Silver's lips or Lorenzo's strong hand wrapped around his. Just the quiet echo of machines and a cold breeze creeping from the air conditioner.
Panic bloomed in his chest.
He turned his head sharply—nothing.
They were gone.
His heart began pounding. His lips trembled.
With trembling hands, he reached up and tore off the oxygen mask strapped to his face. It made a soft hiss as it disconnected. The cannula slipped from his nostrils.
