|Theodore|
The ICU felt like its own world—sterile, cold, and detached from the vibrancy of life outside. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air, mingling with the rhythmic beeping of machines that monitored every fragile breath Carmella took. It was a sound that had both tormented and soothed me over the past five days, a reminder that she was still here, still fighting, even as time crawled forward with excruciating slowness.
I sat in the same uncomfortable chair I had occupied since the first visiting hours were allowed, my body aching from the relentless vigil. My back was stiff, my legs cramped, and my thoughts a storm of worry that refused to settle. Sleep was a distant memory, food an afterthought. Nothing mattered but her.
I dragged a rough hand down my face, feeling the coars
