"FOR NOW?" Logan repeated, his tone dark, pressing the word like a blade against the silence. "What do you mean by FOR NOW?"
The room seemed to still.
The faint hum of the ceiling fan overhead was suddenly too loud, filling the space where words should have been.
Logan's glare, sharp and burning, locked on the doctor's face, demanding truth—real truth—not a polished reassurance meant to pacify him.
That single word—now—was enough to send dread clawing its way back into his chest.
The doctor hummed thoughtfully, nodding slowly, his brows knitting together in measured calm.
He could feel the weight of Logan's tension pressing the air thin.
"Your twin brother is stable," he began, his voice carrying the careful precision of someone choosing every word.
"But there is a possibility he may fall into a coma…"
His words trailed, watching as Logan's face drained of color, lips parting, eyes widening with a sudden, desperate fear.
