Ana's POV
I had no patience for their concerns. Scrambling to my feet, I bolted straight toward the hospital room.
None of this made sense. Just moments ago, Preston had appeared completely fine. How could he suddenly be this sick?
Inside the room, Preston was conscious. When he spotted me entering, that familiar gentle smile spread across his face, warm as always. His fragile hand stretched toward me. "Ana, you made it. Come here. We need to talk."
My eyes burning with unshed tears, I approached the bedside and settled into the chair, staring at Preston. "I'm right here, Grandpa," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "Tell me what you need to say."
Preston looked terrible against those stark hospital sheets. Perhaps from just waking, his eyes appeared clouded, and exhaustion seemed to weigh him down completely.
He managed a faint smile, attempting to comfort me. "Don't look so worried. I understand my own condition. I'm not ready to give up the ghost yet."
