Over the following weeks, Rachel quietly allowed the visits to continue. And every time Lily entered room 304, Ethan’s condition improved.
One evening, she brought a drawing.
“It’s for when he wakes up.”
Rachel leaned closer. The picture showed a man and a little girl holding hands beneath a bright yellow sun.
“Why are you so sure he’ll wake up?” Rachel asked gently.
“Because he squeezed my hand three times,” Lily replied. “And he almost smiled when I told him about my kitten.”
She kept talking to him—about her dream of becoming a doctor, about her mom who had to leave college to raise her.
“We’re a team against the world,” she said proudly.
Then suddenly, something changed.
Ethan’s fingers wrapped around her hand.
His eyelids trembled… and slowly opened.
“Angel…” he murmured weakly.
“I’m not an angel. I’m Lily. I’m six years old.”
He tried to sit up, still disoriented.
“Your voice… you were singing.”
She smiled and softly finished the song she always used to chase away fear. Tears streamed down his face.
At that exact moment, the door burst open. Dr. Adams rushed in, furious to see a child inside the ICU. Emily appeared behind him, panicked.
“Lily, get down right now!”