He was sitting beside her, holding her hand, his eyes never leaving her face. Her forehead, usually adorned with a small bindi that added a touch of grace to her appearance, was now wrapped in a bandage. Her natural pink lips, which she loved to enhance with various shades of lipstick and he loved to kiss, were now pale and devoid of their usual vibrancy. Her eyes, always so full of innocence and warmth, were closed and puffy, bearing the marks of her recent ordeal.
The cheeks, once chubby and irresistible to him, which he loved to bite and nibble, bore the marks of dried tears. The nose he always tapped to irritate her was now red from crying. Her face, which usually brightened his world with just a smile, was pale and devoid of its usual glow. The hand he was holding, always adorned with colorful bangles that he loved to hear jingle, was now punctured with drips, a stark contrast to the vibrant sounds he cherished.
His eyes traveled down to her ankles, which were usually decorated with delicate anklets that produced a soothing, melodious sound with each step. Now, they were wrapped in crepe bandages, silent and still.