53

The hospital reeked of antiseptic and tension. The fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow on the white-tiled floors as Leo and Talia approached the reception desk. Talia’s heart pounded as she asked the nurse for Marco’s room, her voice barely concealing the trembling anxiety underneath.

"Room 302, Donovan family," the nurse directed them. Talia thanked her, her voice soft and strained, as Leo placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her toward the room.

As they entered, the sight of Marco lying unconscious in the hospital bed sent a shockwave through Talia’s system. His head was wrapped in white gauze, a stark contrast to his pale complexion. His arms and legs were bandaged, though the injuries didn’t appear life-threatening. Talia’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes welling up with tears.

Beside the bed, Marco’s mother, Mrs. Donovan, sat rigidly in her chair, her face a mask of stoic worry. Talia’s father stood nearby, his expression gri