Clara’s POV

Brian’s call hit like a shot of adrenaline, surging straight into my veins. The hospital room’s curtains were drawn tight, dim yellow light casting shadows on my pale face. I curled up in bed, phone pressed to my ear, voice a hushed whisper. “Baby, it’s me. Hospital update—Yanis, that punk… vegetative state. Concussion too severe; docs say slim chance of waking. A living corpse, haha!”

Vegetative? My heart skipped, lips curling into an involuntary grin, laughter ...