Chapter 92 – The News

The waiting room lights buzzed softly overhead, but no one noticed. Time had started to move strangely—every minute dragged like an hour, every hour felt endless.

Anna hadn't moved from her seat. Her fingers clutched the hem of Ryan's hoodie, the fabric stained and worn, but warm with memory. Savannah sat beside her, gently rubbing her shoulder, whispering now and then, even though Anna rarely responded.

Ben leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the floor. His mind felt like it was stuck between two versions of reality: the one where Ryan was alive and teasing him during practice, and the one where he was lying in a hospital bed, unmoving.

Sarah stood off to the side, next to Richard and Jack. Her face looked hollow—like someone had taken the strength out of her bones and left only the frame. Richard stood still, unreadable, but the redness in his eyes betrayed his emotions.

Then the door opened.

A doctor stepped in, a tall man in his fifties, with a tired look and a clipboard in his hand. Behind him, a nurse quietly entered and stood near the doorway.

Everyone stood at once.

"Family of Ryan Whitmore?" the doctor asked gently.

"That's us," Sarah answered hoarsely, stepping forward.

The doctor nodded and gave a small, respectful pause before continuing. "Ryan's condition is stable. That's the good news. The surgery to reduce swelling in his brain went as expected, and there were no unexpected complications."

Everyone exhaled—but too quickly.

The doctor's face stayed somber. "But Ryan hasn't regained consciousness. As of now, he's in a coma. We're monitoring him around the clock, but…" He looked at Sarah, then Richard, then around the group. "We can't say when—or if—he'll wake up."

The room went still.

Savannah gasped softly. Anna covered her mouth with both hands. Ben stood like he'd been frozen in place.

The doctor continued. "There's more. Ryan suffered trauma to his spine during the impact. It's too early to determine the full extent of the damage, but I need to prepare you—if he does wake up… he might not be able to walk."

The words fell like stones into a silent lake.

"No…" Sarah whispered, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said. "We won't give up on him. He's strong. Young. But we believe in honesty. Right now, all we can do is wait, provide care, and hope."

Anna suddenly turned away, walking quickly to the far end of the room where she pressed her forehead against the cold window. Her shoulders trembled, her silent cries shaking her entire body.

Ben's hands curled into fists. "He saved her life. He didn't even think twice."

"Of course he didn't," Jack said softly.

Richard looked down, blinking hard. "He always had that in him. That strength. That heart."

Sarah's lips trembled. "He was finally happy… he had friends, basketball, he had Anna…"

The doctor stepped back respectfully. "We'll keep you updated. If anything changes, you'll be the first to know."

With that, he left.

Silence returned—but now it had weight.

Anna slowly turned from the window, her eyes red and swollen. She looked at Sarah, then at Richard, and her voice barely came out. "Can I see him?"

Sarah nodded. "Of course."

Anna walked slowly down the hall, each step heavier than the last, the air thick with grief, love, and a hope no one dared speak out loud.