Finished with her shower, Bridget put on her sleep shirt, smeared lotion over her face and her arms and her hands, brushed her hair again, and then turned off the light before opening the door to Victor’s room.

“I’m ready for my snuggle,” she said as she climbed up on the hospital bed next to him. It had become a habit to narrate everything she did around him.

It was a new way of life.

Funny how a new reality had become old in no time at all, and what had felt forced and unnatural at first, had quickly become the norm, the way things were. It helped her cope; it helped her hold on to Victor; it helped her pretend that in some way they were still together.

Going about her business and just monitoring Victor would have made him into an inanimate object instead of the man she loved. Talking to him helped her maintain the connection.

She could pretend that the one-sided communication was normal, and that they were a normal couple living their lives. They just happened to reside in the patient room in her clinic, and one of them was temporarily mute.

Heck, some men were like that while fully conscious, and their wives were forced to carry on one-sided conversations throughout their lives.

It wasn’t so bad.

After sixteen days, the routine was so familiar that it became comfortable. Except for the times she succumbed to negativity and couldn’t chase away the nagging worry. His fever had gone down after the first couple of days, remaining at a slightly elevated level, and his blood pressure had stabilized too. And yet, he was not waking up. No other Dormant had taken that long.

What if Victor never woke up?

What if that was it, and it was never going to get better?

Every night she climbed in bed with Victor, snuggled up close and talked to him, stopping occasionally to kiss his cheek, or his eyelid, or his hand, and then talking some more until sleep was threatening to claim her.

Most nights she got up in time and moved to the cot, but sometimes she stayed with him all night, somehow aware in her sleep that she shouldn’t move lest she dislodged any of the wires and tubes he was hooked up to.

With her head resting on Victor’s chest, Bridget draped her arm around his torso and sighed. “When you wake up, I promise to feed you all the steaks you want. I’ll even cook them for you. Isn’t that reason enough to fight your way back? They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, maybe it is also the way to his consciousness?”

Bridget chuckled. “It’s good that no one other than you can hear me babble nonsense like that. They would’ve lost all respect for me. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

She lifted her head and planted a kiss on his cheek, which was starting to grow stubble. Every morning, she gave him a sponge bath and a shave, keeping his face hairless the way he liked it, but by evening he would sprout a prickly shadow.

His eyelashes fluttered, but that was nothing to get excited about, it was just an involuntary movement.

When his finger twitched, Bridget’s heart jumped a little, but she reminded herself that it could’ve been an involuntary movement as well, and her heart sank back down.

Nevertheless, for the next few moments, she barely dared to breathe, paying attention to every part of Victor’s body.

In preparation for the night, she’d turned the sound of the monitoring equipment off and had turned the monitors to face the walls so the glare wouldn’t keep her awake.

Should she get up and check?

It was probably nothing, and she didn’t want to get her hopes up. Fates knew she’d done that enough. Every time she’d imagined anything, she’d run to the monitors with her heart in her throat from excitement, and each time she’d been devastated when the monitors showed no change.

Still, maybe this time it was something. Listening to Victor’s heart, it seemed to her that his heart rate had gone up, but she wasn’t wearing a watch, and without it, she couldn’t take an accurate measurement.

“I’m going to get up and check the monitors. I know I’m a hopeful fool, but I just can’t help it.”

Victor’s finger twitched again as if to encourage her.

“I see that you agree.” She slid off the bed. “But with what part? The one about checking the monitors or the one about me being a fool?”

She walked over to the equipment. “Don’t answer that.”

Everything was mounted on wheels, so all it took was a pull and a swivel to have them facing her.

She hadn’t imagined it. His heart rate was up.

“Victor?” She turned away from the monitors and took the two steps back to the bed. “If you can hear me, move your finger the way you did before.”

His hands were resting on his abdomen, the way she’d arranged them, and she watched both for movement.

A couple of seconds passed before the same finger that twitched before twitched again.

Coincidence?

“Can you do it again?”

The finger twitched.

“Oh, dear merciful Fates.” Bridget’s hand flew to her heart. “Thank you. I will never doubt you again.”