Later, Sarah hadn’t moved from Nathan’s bedside. She sat rigid in the hard hospital chair, her eyes fixed on him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath the crisp white blanket. His face was pale, lips colorless, lashes dark against his skin. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the sterile room, each beat a reminder of the doctors’ warning—if he didn’t wake up within two days, he might never wake up at all.

The door swung open, breaking the ...