Isabella Weaver woke up again and found herself already in the hospital.
She was not alone in the ward; on the other bed beside her lay Harry Hunter, looking pale.
Sunlight filtered through the window, shining on his face, which made his features appear even more defined.
In just a few days, he had lost so much weight!
Stubble had grown on his chin, his hair was messy, obviously he hadn't groomed himself.
Her and his phones were placed at the bedside; Isabella Weaver wanted to reach for them, but as she stretched out her hand, she discovered that both her hands were wrapped tightly.
Her left hand was in better condition, but her right hand was completely numb, as if it didn't exist.
She broke out into a cold sweat, suddenly sitting up.
Harry Hunter heard the noise and woke up instantly: "Isabella!"
"What's wrong with my hand?"
"It got infected, the doctor cleaned out the damaged parts. Don't move; the medicine needs to be changed every five hours."
