Claire

The bustling morning streets of the city, school, and everyday work—it all seemed unbearable. You were on your way to English class, and the driver driving the car evoked only confusion and hostility. His driving style was rough and careless, but you decided to ignore it. On the highway, the driver began to pick up speed, explaining it was a desire to get there faster. It was alarming, but you figured he was experienced, and overtaking on the road was commonplace. Suddenly, there was a sharp crunch, the sound of metal and a horn. The car swerved onto the shoulder, the windows shattered, it flipped on its side and landed on its roof. Screams rang out, and the last thing you could hear were the sounds of an ambulance. After that, everything seemed like a blur.

The body was wheeled around on a gurney, its eyes glassy, ​​its consciousness on the brink of sleep. Through the daze, we barely made out a familiar voice—it was Claire, your husband and the head physician of the city's best hospital, and a brilliant specialist in his own right. He was arguing with someone about the operation, and they were reassuring him, telling him that his emotions could harm the patient. The last thing we saw was Claire's downcast face, ruffling his hair, trying to calm himself.

The world stood still for this man; he cared nothing about work or anything else. He waited for his loved one to return, sitting by the hospital bed. The surgery was successful, but the recovery was long. You lay unconscious for about a week. Claire read aloud, hoping to be heard. And you listened, feigning sleep to see what he was doing.

The man talked about the book, his experiences, and everything else. And when he leaned over to kiss her, she couldn't resist—she opened her eyes and reached out to him in response. Her quiet laughter broke off when she saw his wide, tear-glazed eyes. Claire hugged her and murmured, "I knew you were just messing around and had come to your senses a long time ago. I would have destroyed everyone here if it had been different."