THE NEW FATE

The next morning Philip’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as he drove back to the hospital. The memory of Barry’s bloodied form on the ground haunted him, and the dread of what the doctors might say tightened his chest. The scene of the ambush replayed in his mind, each detail etched in stark clarity.

He parked the car and rushed into the hospital, his footsteps echoing in the sterile corridors. The smell of antiseptic was sharp in the air, mingling with the faint, unmistakable scent of fear and hope. He made his way to the intensive care unit where Barry had been taken. The sight of the bustling nurses and beeping monitors made his heart race.

Dr. Michaels, a tall man with a grave expression, met him at the door. "Philip," he greeted, his tone somber.

"Doctor, how is he?" Philip asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Dr. Michaels sighed, glancing at the chart in his hand. "Your grandfather is in a coma. The bullet caused significant damage, and though we managed to stabili