~Central Hospital ~
Several minutes after Bob left the hospital ward, Aaron arrived, his footsteps brisk and hurried. The elevator took longer than expected to arrive, and when it finally arrived, he stepped in and hastily shut the door, eliciting complaints from those waiting. He barely acknowledged them—his mind was elsewhere.
Reaching the corridor leading to Desmond's ward, he took a deep breath to gather his composure before he pushed the door open.
Inside the ward, Desmond lay on the hospital bed his gaze on the blank canvas of the ceiling, looking visibly drained. His face was pale, tiny beads of sweat clinging to his forehead. His hand clutched his abdomen tightly, and his usually sharp eyes was dull. An IV drip was attached to his hand to provide him with much-needed fluids, but it was clear he isn't close to recovery.