He was laying on the hospital bed, hooked onto tubes. I held his hand, slowly drawing circles with mine.

"Oh, please Tom, look at me," I kept whispering only for him to hear.

Moments passed and we barely moved.

I felt a slight twitch on his hand. I looked at him, hoping for his eyes to be open. And they were. Our eyes met after what felt like a thousand years.

"You're okay," I breathed.

"Did you just ask me to look at you?" his voice was low, but his grin was big.