Chapter 4 - A Fragile Pulse
The monitor stuttered back to life, spitting out a weak, irregular green wave that rose and fell in jagged, hesitant peaks.
""We've got a pulse! Sinus rhythm is returning, but it's tachycardic. Push the epinephrine, get the vent adjusted!"" the lead doctor commanded, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.
The room slowly exhaled a collective, shuddering breath. The frantic energy didn't entirely dissipate, but the immediate crisis had receded into a tense, fragile stability. Marcus remained unconscious, his face deathly pale, but his chest was moving under the white sheet, driven by the rhythmic hiss of the ventilator tube that had been hastily inserted.
Julian let out a long, shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He loosened his grip on the doorframe, his fingers aching from the sheer force of his panic. He looked across the room at Leo, who was still weeping quietly, his tiny body trembling against the nurse's shoulder.
""Can... can I put him down now?"" the nurse asked gently, looking toward Julian as the senior staff members stabilized the equipment.
Julian nodded, stepping slowly back into the room. He walked over, kneeling beside Leo as the nurse set the boy down onto his feet. Leo immediately rushed back to the bedside, his small hands reaching up to grasp the edge of the mattress, desperate to touch his father.
""He's sleeping again,"" Leo whispered, looking up at Julian with wide, tear-stained eyes filled with a mixture of fear and confusion. ""Is he... is he still mad at me?""
Julian blinked, caught completely off guard by the child's raw innocence. He swallowed hard, pushing down the lump in his throat. ""Mad at you? Kid, your dad thinks the sun rises and sets on you. He could never be mad at you.""
""How do you know?"" Leo asked, tilting his head with innocent suspicion. ""You're a stranger.""
Julian let out a dry, humorless chuckle that sounded more like a cough. ""Yeah. I guess I am. But... I used to know him better than anyone else in this world.""
He reached down, picking up the fallen pencil drawing that had dropped during the chaos. He unfolded it fully. It wasn't just a dragon. In the corner, clumsily scrawled in Marcus's distinct handwriting, were the words: For Leo. We’ll fly soon.
Julian’s breath caught. It was a drawing from an old memory—a sketch they used to make together when they were boys dreaming of escaping their small town. The realization hit Julian like a physical blow: Marcus hadn't forgotten the past. He had been trying to rewrite it.
May you like
Just then, the door clicked open again, and a tall, sharp-featured woman in a tailored gray suit stepped into the room, her expression cold and unyielding.
""Julian,"" she said, her voice cutting through the quiet room like broken glass. ""I told you not to come here.""
