The hospital ICU was sterile, cold, and eerily quiet except for the constant beeping of the heart monitor and other life machines attached to the person lying on the bed, each sound ominous and rattling, serves as a reminder of his silent fight for survival. The oxygen mask on his handsome face serves as a lifeline to the motionless b, body who is oblivious to the events happening in his surroundings and the chaos raging outside his ward for the past few months. The door creaked open, ushering in an elegant lady whose poise and grace are outstanding. Her face flaunting an ethereal beauty of charm,-- Vera Lou, is adorned in a simple gown that clung perfectly on her, walked towards the bed, her expression a mix of guilt, pain, and resignation. Gently, she traced her fingers along his face with her gaze lingering on his eyebrows as she caressed them with unfeigned gentleness. She had always known him to be handsome, but it seemed the months in the hospital had done nothing to him, that even in his unconscious state, he was still a god amongst men. She sighed. "Davis", she called, her voice almost a whisper. "I came to pay this visit because this will be the last time I have to acknowledge what we had and shared in the past", her voice cracking with emotion. "I am sorry to have made this decision without considering you first, but with so many things going on, I really can't keep up with them. I just hope you can forgive my actions", she muttered as tears fell from her eyes and she hurriedly wiped them off with the back of her palm. "The world is cruel, don't you think, and I can't deny the fact that I am too", she smiled mockingly as she continued, "but-what do you expect from a lady that has family, responsibility, and expectations to do?" "Davis, do you know that everything you have ever worked for has been taken over by the people that you despise- the company, the mansion, your dreams, and above all ...your fiancée?" "It is ridiculous, right? But then that is the truth", she said as she let out a long breath. She straightened up and walked towards the door. Davis' fingers twitched lightly, barely noticeable. As she opened the door, she paused briefly, casting one last glance at the man who was once the most important to her; her tears fell. "Good Bye Davis," she murmured, and the door clicked shut, and her footsteps faded into the distance. She had moved on, and that was a fact that couldn't be changed. She had tried to hold on, clinging to hope, but reality had proven her wrong time and time again. The silence after her departure lasted only for a few moments, and the heart monitor's steady rhythm transformed into a sharp, erratic shrill sound. Its piercing alarm shattering the supposed calmness in the ward as it sent nurses and doctors into a frenzy. "Code Blue! Patient in distress!" a nurse shouted, her voice sharp with urgency. Several medical staff flooded the room, their movements swift and precise. Davis's body, which had been still moments ago, twitched lightly, his chest heaving as his condition spiraled. "Intubate the patient! Start BVM ventilation! Administer 100% Oxygen, Check SpO2!" The doctor continued to bark instructions while the team worked tirelessly, their voices blending into a series of commands and updates. Amidst the commotion, Davis's mind stirred as fragmented images flashed in his subconscious: a blaring horn, screeching of tires, shattering of glasses, frantic voices and wails of sirens, a voice lingering faintly. His body returned to its previous state of calmness. The nurses moved quietly, their voices subdued as they adjusted his IV drip and checked his vitals. Though his breathing was steady, his body appeared frail, his once broad shoulders now thinner, his skin pale against the stark hospital bedding. The attending doctor, Dr. Bradley, stood at the foot of the bed, scribbling notes on a clipboard. His face was a mixture of relief and concern. "He's stable, but just barely. His body can't endure many more episodes like this, and also be careful not to allow anyone entry to avoid another emergency," he murmured to the nurse beside him. As they completed the necessary checks, they quietly exited the room, leaving Davis alone once again. The stillness returned, but something had shifted. Beneath his closed eyelids, there was a flicker—a twitch of consciousness that hadn't been there before. His mind stirred with fragmented memories he couldn't understand despite their persistence. A voice keeps resonating in the dark, "Do you know everything ..... has been taken... your fiancée" His eyelids fluttered. Slowly, painfully, they opened, revealing eyes dulled by months of unconsciousness. The fluorescent lights above him were harsh and blinding, so he shut his eyes instinctively. It took several blinks before his vision adjusted. His body felt weak and unresponsive, and pain coursed through his body. The first thing that came into his line of sight was the white ceiling—a blank canvas that felt strangely foreign, followed by the IV line attached to his arm, then the various machines in the room, each attached to him at one point or another. He tried to lift a hand but found it too weak to move. "Where... is this?" he asked, his voice hoarse and muffled as he quietly scanned around the room. The door creaked open, and a nurse stepped in, startled to see his open eyes. "Mr. Allen," she said, her voice laced with surprise and relief. "You're awake! I'll get the doctor." Before he could lift his hand, the nurse rushed out of the ward, her heart pounding with astonishment. After four long months, Davis Allen had finally regained his consciousness. Apart from his immobilized legs—an injury his family had insisted did not require amputation—he had emerged unscathed. It was as though destiny had given him another opportunity, a rare reprieve, and a second chance to live.