Mr. and Mrs. Holman woke up and went straight to Brad's bedroom to take a look at Brad. They were pessimistic about the situation as all of the best doctors in New York refused to believe that Brad will ever wake up. They told them that only a miracle can pull Brad out of his coma. All his metabolism was working fine. It was as if Brad was in a deep sleep. Amelia was very sad. She could not digest the fact that Brad might never wake up. She looked at Brad and gave a sorrowful smile, which did not reach her eyes. Her blonde hair was tied into a knot above her head, and few loose strands were falling on her face. Her red-rimmed eyes were evidence of the fact that she spent the previous night crying. Mr. Holman was no better than his beautiful wife. The corner of his eyes were still moist, and his gla.s.ses could not cover the dead look in his eyes. He was tremendously heartbroken. How would a father feel when his only son is in coma? He was the Mayor of the City, but what happened to his own child? He cannot save his own son. Grief filled him and he sat down on the same chair in which Brad sat down last night. He absentmindedly knocked down the table lamp which came cras.h.i.+ng down on the floor.

Amelia looked at her husband and said nothing. She picked up the table lamp and placed it on the desk. Luckily, it didn't break. It was Brad's favorite lamp. It was imported from Norfolk. When he kept the lamp on the table casually, her hand brushed something. She turned to take a look at that and found a piece of paper. She thought hard. 'Was this thing here yesterday? Maybe, this is of something importance to Brad.' Having thought of that possibility, she placed the letter inside the drawer. She went towards Brad's bed and sat down on it. She caressed his hair slightly and said, "Brad, I hope that you wake up soon. You know right, that your Mum is waiting for you, my boy. Please wake up soon. It is hard for your Mum to spend her days. Without you, there is no light in mum's life. Wake up soon, my boy." She slowly touched the corner of her eyes and stopped the tears from falling. She strongly believed that if she cries, Brad will be hurt.

She took Brad's hand into her own and rubbed it gently. "Brad let me tell you a story which I have never told you. Your father never knew about this story too. I hope that you will like this and understand this. You might even get some answers you might be finding. This will also answer the mark you have on your forehead. I think it's related to them. Only they will be able to tell. But, I know that I can't move you. Your body can't handle movements now. Sigh, my poor boy." Amelia sighed and caressed Brad's forehead.

She kissed on his forehead and started narrating a story. "I already told you all about my grandmother, right?"

Stephan nodded his head. She spoke about her grandmother almost all the times of the day. Grandmother this! Grandmother that! He was tired of listening to it. Again she was going to tell stories of her Grandma? He sighed in his heart but said nothing. He already knew that it was hard to convince her. He also wanted her to be happy. If narrating her grandma's stories makes her happy, so be it. Stephan made up his heart not to interrupt his wife. But he didn't want to pay attention to it. So, he went to the balcony and looked at the outside world. He thought, 'Everything is so volatile. Maybe, only relations.h.i.+ps and memories last, similar to how his wife's grandma is in their memories.' He smiled sarcastically at his own thought.

He took a deep breath. The outside air was moist. It rained yesterday. The murky smell of earth wafted to his nose. He took another deep breath. Suddenly, he had an urge to smoke. He didn't smoke for a long time. But, he was sad. It was a taboo in this society – Men cannot cry. He sometimes thought, 'Why can't men cry? They can cry too. They are human beings and have feelings. Why can't they cry?' He smiled at his own thoughts again. He went to fetch the cigarette from his own room. When he returned, he caught sight of something and stood at the doorway in disbelief.