Olivia
I woke up the next morning feeling more exhausted than when I'd gone to bed. My dreams had been a chaotic mix of hospital corridors, Alexander's hands, and my father's pale face against white sheets. Not exactly restful.
The hospital looked different in daylight, less ominous, more institutional.
I found Mom exactly where I'd left her, dozing uncomfortably in a chair pulled close to Dad's bed. She was startled awake when I touched her shoulder.
"Olivia," she blinked, disoriented. "What time is it?"
"Almost nine. How is he?"
We both looked at Dad, who slept peacefully, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The machines around him beeped quietly, monitoring his vital signs.
"Stable," Mom whispered. "The nurse said he's doing well. Better than expected."
I squeezed h
