The hospital room was dim and quiet, the only sounds the steady beep of monitors and the soft hiss of oxygen; Jotham sat in the uncomfortable chair beside his father's bed, his posture slumped with exhaustion, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. He had been coming to the hospital every day for the past four months, sitting vigil beside Dr. Hema's unconscious form, talking to him even though there was never a response, holding onto hope that was growing thinner with each passing week.

The ...