The machines wouldn't stop humming.
It was the first thing anyone noticed when they stepped into the room—the low, steady sound, like the hospital itself was refusing to hold its breath. Adriel lay on the bed, completely still, his skin pale, almost translucent under the harsh white lights. Tubes ran along his arm, wires clung to his chest, and yet his chest still rose. Slowly. Quietly. As if he was fighting not to disappear.
Edward and Bethel stood beside the bed, neither of them knowing what to do with their hands. Years of marriage hadn't prepared them for this—standing over a broken boy they barely knew, already terrified of losing him.
The doctor lowered her clipboard and looked at them the way doctors do when they don't have good news but still don't want to crush hope.
She explained the injuries. There were many. Internal, external. The fact that he was still alive? Mostly willpower. Treatment had been done, wounds handled, but waking up… that part couldn't be promised. He could wake up tomorrow. Or not at all. Complications were still possible, so monitoring him closely was the only option.
Bethel felt her throat close. She begged. Quietly. Desperately. Asked the doctor to do everything she could.
The answer was gentle. Honest. She would.
Then she left.
The room fell back into silence, except for the monitor. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Bethel stared at the boy's face for a long moment. He looked so young. Too young.
"Who could do this to a child?" she whispered.
Edward shook his head slowly. He didn't have an answer. He just kept thinking about what would've happened if Bethel hadn't found him when she did. The thought alone made his chest ache.
After a while, Bethel spoke again—hesitant this time, like she was afraid of the idea even as she held onto it.
"If he wakes up… can I take him in?" she asked softly. "As my godson."
Edward looked at her. Really looked. Then he nodded.
"Do whatever you want."
Relief washed over her face immediately.
A glance at his watch followed. Someone else would be arriving soon. He told her he'd wait outside and be right back.
She nodded.
The door closed gently behind him.
Alone now, Bethel stepped closer to the bed. She sat beside Adriel and reached for his hand, careful, almost afraid to touch him too firmly. He was warm. Still here.
"You're strong," she murmured. "Stronger than you know."
The machines kept humming. The monitor kept beeping. And in that quiet room, a woman sat with a boy who hadn't woken yet, already deciding she would stay—no matter how long it took.