She froze when she saw Noah.
Her hand pressed to her chest. “Oh… sweetheart,” she whispered.
Alexander snapped, exhausted. “You can clean later. Please.”
But Elena didn’t leave.
She walked closer and began to hum — a soft, gentle lullaby that seemed completely out of place in the sterile room.
Then she slipped off one glove and gently held Noah’s tiny hand.
“Hey there, little fighter,” she murmured. “You’re stronger than you think.”
Alexander looked up, irritated. “Miss, he can’t hear you.”
Elena met his eyes calmly.
“He can. They always can.”
Something in her voice stopped him.
From that moment on, Elena came every shift. She cleaned quietly, but she also spoke to Noah — telling him about sunshine, birds, the world waiting outside.
Finally, Alexander asked, “Why do you talk to him like this?”
Elena smiled softly.
“My younger brother was in a coma for six weeks. Doctors said he’d never wake up. I talked to him every day. He did.”
Hope — fragile and terrifying — flickered inside Alexander.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“I loved him,” Elena said simply. “Sometimes that’s all we have.”
Alexander scoffed weakly. “Love won’t cure brain damage.”