A Family in Crisis

Immediately, Ethan ran away from bed. I followed quickly, my heart pounding. I speedily rushed to Margaret to attempt to make her be conscious while Ethan went about searching out the car key.

Margaret opened her eyes and remembered her husband's incident. Margaret stood up immediately, and led us outdoors, her steps frantic and unsteady. Ethan fumbled round, seeking out his vehicle key, his arms shaking. As he eventually located it, he was already on the telephone with one of his father’s coworkers.

“Mark, what passed off? Where is he?” Ethan’s voice became tight with panic. “We’re on our way.”

The power of the clinic felt like an eternity. The silence in the car became difficult, most effectively damaged by the way of Margaret’s tender sobs and Ethan’s ragged respiration. I reached out to keep Margaret’s hand, looking to provide a little comfort.

“It’s going to be okay, Margaret,” I said, my voice trembling. “Richard is powerful. He’ll pull through.”

We arrived at the medical institution, practically sprinting to the reception table. Ethan’s voice changed into pressing. “My father, Richard Evans. He was brought in. Where is he?”

The receptionist’s face softened with empathy. “He’s in surgery right now. I’ll direct you to the waiting place near the running room.”

We hurried to the ready area, and I sought to see Ethan change into slightly retaining it collectively. He held onto Margaret, who was nevertheless crying uncontrollably. I placed my arm around Margaret, seeking to soothe her.

“Margaret, he’s in precise arms now. The docs will do everything they are able to,” I reassured her.

After what felt like hours, the door to the running room opened and a medical doctor walked in. We all jumped up, annoyed to hear the news. Mark, Richard’s co-worker, had arrived moments earlier.

“Doctor, how is he?” Ethan’s voice turned into strained, nearly determined.

The doctor gave us a reassuring smile. “Mr. Evans had internal bleeding, but we managed to stabilize him. It has become crucial, but he’s out of danger now. If he hadn’t been rushed in so fast, it could have been much worse.”

Margaret let out a sob of comfort and fell to the ground, her legs giving way. I quickly rushed to help her, holding her tightly.

“Thank you, physician. Thank you so much,” Ethan said, his voice breaking.

The health practitioner nodded. “He’s recovering now, but he’ll need to rest for some time. You can see him soon, but most effective for a quick go to at first.”

Margaret clung to me, still crying but now with relief. “I thought we were going to lose him,” she whispered.

“We didn’t, Margaret,” I stated, my voice mild. “He’s going to be okay. We’re all here for him.”

Ethan looked at me, his eyes packed with gratitude and some determination. “We’ll get through this together,” he stated, his voice steadying. “We’re a circle of relatives, and we’ll assist each other differently.”

Mark stepped forward, placing a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “If there’s anything you want, Ethan, in any respect, I’m right here.”

Ethan nodded, his eyes softening. “Thank you, Mark. Right now, we simply need to be with him.”

As soon as the medical doctor gave us the move beforehand, we entered the room where Richard moved to lay. The beeping of the monitors and the sterile smell of the medical institution made the truth of the state of affairs sink in even greater. Margaret started out crying once more, her sobs breaking the silence. I held her tightly, trying to supply her with some semblance of comfort.

“Look at him,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “He looks faded and helpless.

Ethan stepped forward, putting a hand on his mother's arm. “Mom, you need to stay strong. Dad’s going to be pleasant. He truly wishes for time to heal and get some rest as well. Crying won’t help him.”

Margaret shook her head, her voice trembling. “I can’t leave him like this, Ethan. I ought to stay here with him.”

“Mom,” Ethan stated softly, his voice mild, “you want to attend to yourself too. We can’t help Dad if we all fall. Let’s move a little and get a little relaxation. We’ll come in first thing in the morning.”

Margaret changed into adamant. “No, Ethan. I can’t. I want to be here at the same time as he wakes up. What if he wishes to see me?”

I squeezed Margaret’s hand. “Margaret, we understand the way you feel. But Ethan is right. You need to take care of yourself so that you can be strong for Richard. Staying right here won’t help him get higher any quicker.”

Margaret looked between us, her remedy faltering. “I don’t know if I can leave him,” she stated, her voice breaking.

Ethan wrapped his arm round her. “We’ll stay so long as we are able to tonight. But ultimately, we need to head home and relax. For Dad’s sake.”

We spent a few more hours looking at Richard’s face, speaking to him softly, hoping he would listen to us. Margaret held his hand, occasionally brushing his hair away from his brow. Ethan stood near, his eyes in no way leaving his father’s face.

Finally, Ethan and I decided to let her be with her husband. "Me and Helen will come back first thing tomorrow morning."

The domestic drive has become heavy with unstated fears and concerns. Ethan didn’t say a word, and I respected his silence. This wasn’t a time for informal communication. It changed into a time to process everything that had happened.

When we finally got home, Ethan let out a deep sigh. “I can’t think this is occurring,” he stated, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I understand,” I stated softly. “But your dad is powerful, Ethan. He’ll make it through this.”

Ethan turned to me, his eyes full of gratitude. “Thank you for being right here. For assisting Mom. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“We’re in this together,” I spoke back, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “We’ll get through it, one step at a time.”

Ethan nodded, a small glimmer of desire in his eyes. “Yeah, we are able to. And the next day, we’ll be prepared to guide Dad through his healing.”

I watched Ethan head immediately to his father’s workplace, a sense of motive in his stride. “Wait here,” he informed me, his tone serious. He was suspiciously performing a piece, but I brushed it off, attributing it to the strain he had to be feeling because of his father’s incident.

Ethan entered the workplace and commenced looking mercilessly through the drawers, shelves, and shelves. Papers flew in every course as he rifled through report after document. I stood outside the door, my curiosity piqued, but I didn’t dare cross in. Something about his urgency kept me rooted to my spot.

Finally, Ethan found what he was looking for. He pulled out a thick record, his eyes scanning the contents unexpectedly. He dialed a range of numbers on his cellphone and waited for the call to connect. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his voice low and anxious. “I want you to find out who tried to kill my father. No, I don’t care how long it takes, just get it done.”

As he finished the call, he started to leave the office and nearly ran into me standing in the way of the door. His eyes narrowed. “How much did you hear?” he asked, his tone annoying.

I swallowed thoroughly, trying to preserve my neutral expression. “Nothing,” I lied. “I didn’t pay attention whatever.”

Ethan’s eyes searched mine for a second, and I could tell he was deciding whether to accept it as a fact. Before he had to say something, my curiosity was given the better of me. “Ethan, was the incident a planned work?"