A doctor walked into Jasmine's ward with a nurse who followed behind him, carrying a file. Jasmine was in the room with her parents; Mrs. Stones was seated beside her, while Mr. Stone sat across a corner of the room.
The nurse placed the file on the doctor's stretched hands, his gaze darting between Jasmine and the file.
“Is something wrong, doctor?” Jasmine asked, her heart gripped with fear of the doctor's response.
He lifted his gaze, and their eyes locked.
“Your recovery is such a miracle. I would have said last night that you might not make it out alive or spend a few years in a coma,” he said, his face etched with confusion.
The doctor tuned to Mr. Stones and said, “She would be discharged in a few hours. Kindly fill out the form at the counter.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Mr. Stones
