Edward Quinn stood alone at the door of the hospital room, memories of the past flashed through his mind—some joyful, some painful.
He didn't know how long had passed until his hand finally couldn't resist placing it on the door, slowly pushing it open. The caregiver in the room was startled.
Edward gestured for silence, and once the caregiver saw clearly who he was through the dim light, she breathed a sigh of relief and returned to her chair. She knew the visitor was the father of the lady, but wasn't sure why he had been standing outside without entering.
Edward walked step by step toward the bed. In the room, only a dim nightlight was on, but it was enough for visibility.
Now, each step felt so heavy, as if it took all the strength he had to move forward.
With each step, his heart trembled violently. His throat moved, even his breathing became rapid.
When he finally reached the bedside and saw the person sleeping on it, he felt a sense of disorientation.
