Chapter 6 - The Aftermath
Roman awoke to the harsh glare of fluorescent lights.
His head pounded, and his mouth tasted like dry ash.
He tried to move his arm, but it felt like lead.
"Easy, Mr. Silas," a soft voice said.
He blinked, his vision coming into focus.
He was in a private hospital room, hooked up to an IV bag of fluids.
Dr. Evans was standing at the foot of the bed, checking a chart.
"Where is she?" Roman croaked, tearing the IV from the back of his hand.
"She is stable," Dr. Evans said quickly, raising his hands in surrender.
"You saved her, Mr. Silas."
Roman swung his legs over the side of the bed.
The room tilted, but he forced himself to stand.
"Take me to her," he commanded.
"She is in the ICU, still unconscious from the anesthesia," the doctor explained as he led the way.
"And my child?" Roman asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"A boy," the doctor smiled softly.
"He was premature and is in an incubator, but his lungs are strong."
"He is a fighter, just like his parents."
Roman processed the words.
A son.
He had an heir.
He had a family.
They reached the intensive care unit.
Roman stopped outside the large glass window.
Clara was lying perfectly still, hooked up to dozens of wires and tubes.
Her skin was pale, but she was breathing on her own.
He slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the sweetest song he had ever heard.
He pulled a chair to her bedside and sat down heavily.
May you like
He reached out, his large, scarred hand gently engulfing her delicate fingers.
"I found you," he whispered into the quiet room.
