The days stretched on, a relentless march of uncertainty and worry. Waylen spared no effort, summoning experts from near and far to unlock the puzzle of her condition.

Rena's ward became a sanctuary of vigil, her name a constant whisper in the air, a plea for her to rejoin the world of the living. Yet Rena remained trapped in the realm of unconsciousness, her form lying still, untouched by the world that continued to spin around her.

Six days came and went, a slow and agonizing passage of time that left Rena's family on the precipice of despair.

As the clock struck ten in the evening, a pivotal consultation unfolded, the corridor enveloped in an icy chill that mirrored the uncertainty that hung in the air.

Waylen, clad only in a white shirt and trousers, stood in the sterile corridor, his breath visible in the cold.

The doctor's words pierced the silence.

“It has been six days. Our intensive examinations have revealed that the fetus's heart rate within Mrs. Fowler's womb is steadily declining. If she doesn't awaken within the next forty-eight hours, both the baby and her health will be in grave danger. Our unanimous suggestion is artificial interference."

The weight of those words bore down on Waylen, his grip on the doctor's collar tightening involuntarily.

“What did you just say?" he demanded, his voice quaking with a mixture of fear and defiance.

The doctor, unflinching in the face of Waylen's emotion, met his gaze with calm resolve.

A moment stretched between them, a tense silence hanging in the air. Eventually, Waylen released his grip on the doctor's collar, his voice a mere whisper.

“I apologize.”

The doctor's voice remained steady as he said, “Consider the option, Mr. Fowler.”

Alone in the darkened corridor, Waylen found himself swallowed by the cold night, his gaze fixed on the swirling snowflakes beyond the windowpane.

The snow continued to fall, as relentless as time itself, an unending cascade of white that seemed to mirror the desolation within Waylen's heart. He knew how much Rena Loved the baby, and so did he.

Six days had passed, but she remained cocooned in her slumber. Waylen's mind raced, grappling with the unbearable possibility of a future without Rena. What if she never woke? How could he bear the weight of a world without her?

Doubt, fear, and a fierce determination battled within him.

As he lit a cigarette, the ember burned bright, a tiny flame that seemed to mirror his own flickering hope. With the passage of that cigarette, Waylen returned to Rena's bedside.

Juliette, Rena's mother-in-law, was diligently caring for her. Waylen's hoarse voice cut through the air.

“Have the kids returned?" Tears glistened in Juliette's eyes as she nodded.

“Yes. Cecilia has taken them back."

Waylen took a warm towel from his mother's hand and began to tenderly wipe Rena's face. His voice, soft and raw, filled the room.