Female NovelKorbyn’s departure left behind a cloud of uncertainty, the weight of recent events hanging heavily in the air
It wasn’t Long before another wave of concern swept into the hospital, carried by none other than Harrison’s distressed mother accompanied by a contingent of Moore family members.
Among them was Addie.
She was Harold’s younger sister
The voice of Harrison’s mother trembled with anxiety as she approached Waylen. “How’s Harrison?” she implored, her frantic gaze searching for answers. Her grip on his arm was tight enough to reflect her inner turmoil.
Waylen, despite his own turbulent thoughts, projected a calming aura as he reassured her. “There’s no immediate danger, but his recovery might be a Lengthy process, Mrs. Moore. I’ll make sure to find the best plastic surgeon.”Contents belong to NovelDrama.Org
The words “plastic surgeon” triggered an emotional avalanche within Harrison’s mother.
Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her as realization and fear collided, intertwining with her maternal instincts.
Amidst this turmoil, a doctor emerged from the emergency room, offering a momentary distraction from the mounting tension. He provided an update on Harrison’s condition, the news dispelling the immediate threat to his life. The Moore family’s members immediately went in to see Harrison.
Waylen heard the woman’s shrill voice through the passage. She couldn’t accept the fact that her son was disfigured.
Meanwhile, the heaviness of guilt pressed upon Waylen, its weight almost suffocating.
Juliette, always a pillar of strength, offered a comforting gesture, her hand gently resting on his shoulder as she urged him to tend to his own injuries. “Waylen, attend to your wound. I’ll stay with Rena. We can’t afford to alarm her when she awakens.”
His vulnerability peeking through his facade, he Leaned on the wall and rubbed his hair angrily with his hand.
“I’m not in the mood.”
As much as Juliette empathized with her son’s anguish, she understood how important Rena was to him. Leaving him to wrestle with his thoughts, she assumed her vigil outside the emergency room.
The passage of time seemed agonizingly slow as Waylen and Juliette anxiously awaited news of their Loved ones.
Each ticking second weighed heavily on their hearts, the minutes stretching into an unbearable tapestry of uncertainty.
Two hours had already passed, the hospital corridor standing witness to their collective anxiety.
When the door of the emergency room finally opened four hours later, it was as if the world held its breath.
“How is my wife?” Waylen hurried up.
The doctor, a figure of hope in their strained reality, removed his mask and faced Waylen‘’s questioning gaze. His voice, a measured murmur, held the news they both craved and feared. “Mr. Fowler, our examination indicates that Mrs. Fowler didn’t sustain significant physical trauma. However, her brain did suffer a moderate concussion from the impact of the debris.” An undercurrent of concern ran through his words, his gaze holding Waylen’s as he continued, “Oddly, she should have awakened by now, but her response is curiously absent. It’s as if her body has entered a state of slumber, a form of self-preservation.” ?
Waylen was slightly stunned.