*Bael's POV*
Bael stands there waiting.
Nothing is happening. And that is exactly why every single minute hurts so much.
After the doctor goes back inside the trauma room, Bael just stands there, staring at the closed white doors. He tries to sit down on one of the hard plastic chairs, but he lasts less than a minute before his body forces him to stand right back up. His chest feels too tight to sit still. He walks a few steps toward the heavy double doors, but a young nurse politely steps in front of him and blocks his path. He has to take a step back.
The waiting area is full of regular people. They are talking quietly in the corners, drinking warm water from paper cups, and sleeping against each other's shoulders on the uncomfortable benches. The whole room has a strange, tired rhythm. People are yawning, looking at their phones, and flipping through old magazines. For them, it is just a long, boring night.
