Note

As the months dragged on, the hospital became a second home to me. Every day, I would make the journey to Vince's bedside, my heart heavy with worry and fear as I watched over him, willing him to wake from his coma.

"Hey, Vince," I said softly, taking his hand in mine as I settled into the chair beside his bed. "It's me, Friah. I'm here."

There was no response, only the steady beep of the machines monitoring his vital signs, a constant reminder of the fragile thread that held him to this world.

I sighed, the weight of the situation bearing down on me like a heavy burden. "I miss you, Vince," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "I miss your laughter, your warmth, and your presence beside me."

But even as I spoke the words, I knew that Vince couldn't hear me, trapped in the silent prison of his unconscious mind. And yet, I couldn't help but cling to the hope that somewhere, deep down, he could sense my presence, my love for him reaching out across the void that separated us.

Turni