Hanging by a Thread

Vivienne’s POV

I sat by the hospital bed, my fingers trembling as they clutched Don’s hand. The rhythmic beeping of the machines filled the room, a cruel reminder that he was alive but not awake.

His chest rose and fell in slow, steady movements, the ventilator keeping him breathing. Bandages wrapped around his torso, hiding the wounds that had nearly taken him away from me. But I had seen them.