Page 102 of Saddle and Bound

Twenty-four endless hours since Rosie entered this room, and still she hasn't awakened.

The constant beep of the heart monitor has become the backdrop of my existence, a rhythm that marks the seconds, minutes, hours of this unbearable wait.

I've obtained permission to keep vigil here, by her side. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her alone, not even for a moment.

The hospital staff has tried to convince me to take a break, to eat something, to rest, but how could I? How could I move away from her when any breath could be the one that wakes her?

?

Time dissolves into itself, hours bleeding into one endless vigil. The sun sets and rises again, but in here, in this hospital room, time seems to have stopped.

A hand finds my shoulder, warm and steady. I turn, my vision swimming into focus. Chris stands there, concern etched deep in the lines of his face.

"Alex," he says gently, "you need to rest a bit. You can't go on like this."

I shake my head, turning back to look at Rosie. "I can't leave her," I murmur.

Chris sighs. "I know, bro. But you won't be any help to her if you collapse. Go home, take a shower, eat something. I'll stay here with her."

I hesitate. The thought of moving away even for a moment terrifies me.

"I promise I'll call you immediately if there are any changes," Chris insists.

Finally, yielding more to exhaustion than reason, I nod. I stand up slowly, my legs numb from hours of sitting.

I lean over Rosie, brushing her forehead with a light kiss. "I'll be back soon, princess," I whisper.

The journey home is a confused blur.

When I push open my apartment door, her presence hits me with physical force. She's everywhere - in the throw pillow askew on the couch where she last sat, in the coffee mug she left on the counter, in the very air that still seems to hold molecules of her perfume.

The shower's heat penetrates my muscle but can't touch the cold core of fear inside me. Water streams down my face, mixing with tears I thought I'd exhausted. Afterward, as I pull on fresh clothes, my eyes catch on a photograph perched on the bedroom shelf. It's us, caught in a moment of perfect joy during our camping trip. The self-timer captured more truth than any professional photographer could have - Rosie seated between my legs, my arms wrapped around her like I could keep her safe forever, both of us laughing against a backdrop of mountains. Her smile in the photo is incandescent, her eyes holding all the light in the world.

"Please," I murmur to her image, "don't leave me."

I eat something without even realizing what it is. The food has no taste, it's just fuel for a body that wants nothing more than to return to her.

As I'm about to leave, my phone vibrates.

My heart leaps into my throat.

It's a message from Chris:

Chris:Come quickly. Rosie moved.

?

The journey to the hospital exists only in fragments of memory. The corridors stretch endlessly before me as I run toward her room, my heart a wild drum in my chest.

I burst in, breathless. Chris stands beside the bed, his face painted with cautious hope.

"What happened?" I demand, rushing to Rosie's side.

"She moved her fingers," Chris says. "The doctor says it might be a good sign."

I take Rosie's hand in mine, holding it with the delicacy one might afford a butterfly's wing.

"Rosie? Rosie, can you hear me? It's me, princess. It's Alex."

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