Veil Bed Hospital Novels & Stories

I had been sitting in front of the bed and guarding her. She was lying on the hospital bed with a pale face. There was another white veil wrapped around her forehead. She opened her eyes in a daze.

When the door opened, a warm atmosphere greeted them, and the nurses carefully pushed Arion's bed inside. The VIP room in the hospital was grand and filled with an air of elegance. The entrance was made of clean, thick glass, reflecting the luxurious ceiling lights. The room was spacious, decorated with soft colors creating a calming ambiance. The walls were adorned with beautiful artwork and soothing landscape portraits. Thick, plush carpets covered the floor, muffling footsteps and adding a touch of luxury.

Blink—I was in a spot I'd never seen. A tiny room. Dim curtains shut tight against any light sneaking in. One bed shoved against the wall, an old gray blanket half pulled up. Bag on the floor, clothes tumbling out like it'd been stuffed fast and left that way. Window with a thin crack along the bottom left of the glass. And Violet, on the edge of the bed, knees hugged to her chest, face in her hands.

With my head held high and sunglasses shielding my eyes, I proceeded to the designated ward to locate her. Upon entering the ward, I noticed four beds positioned opposite each other, totalling eight beds separated by curtains for privacy. The patients appeared to be women in their sixties or seventies, all dressed in the hospital's attire. Some had companions assisting them with tasks like feeding. Approaching them, I greeted a few patients before reaching her bedside. She lay curled up on her bed, gazing out the window, the last bed by the window, isolated without anyone to attend to her needs like the other patients.

He swallowed the pill without water. It's taken several minutes for Zhou Wei to calm down. His breathing finally steadied up. Zhou Wei opened his window to avoid the same problem from repeating itself. He cannot stay in a confined space, and one person must accompany him when he is sleeping. The light must be switched on until morning, as darkness terribly terrified him. Thank goodness that Lee, his roommate is understanding of his condition. Even when showering or doing private business in the toilet stall, the door must be slightly opened. Not once or twice had his housemate stumbled upon him in the bathroom, completely nude.

The rooms in the hospital weren't much, so they got to her room in no time. Just like every other room in the hospital, this was also white, and the equipment were all white. The patient slept on the bed peacefully, ignorant of what was happening around her. A ventilator was placed beside her to help her breathe easily. A Foley Catheter was attached to aid her bowel, and different machines were inserted into her body. The Afonso had no idea what those machines were called.

If anything happens to her in his pack. "We are here," Rose said as she pushed open the door to a room in the upper storey of the pack house. Gareth walked into the room first looking around to check for any threat. Seraphine couldn't figure out whether his newly found paranoia was because he didn't trust these people or whether it was a because of her recently discovered pregnancy. After confirming her safety, Gareth left. She took a bath and layed down a bit, and she was out in seconds. She woke up to the sound of knocking on the door, groggily rubbing her eyes, she walked to the door and opened it to meet Rose again, smiling brightly. She held a tray of food.

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay out of your way.” Dorothea placed a hand on her arm, her touch was cold doing nothing to soothe Kallista. “You’ll stay in your old room for now. It’s not much—it’s mostly storage these days—but we’ll make do.” Kallista nodded silently, following her mother up the stairs. The room was suffocating. Penelope’s wedding items littered every surface, and a bagged white gown hung from the closet door like a ghost haunting her space. “Penelope’s been using this room to store her things,” Dorothea said, hovering in the doorway.

Six months had passed since the high-stakes vigil of the medical suite. The "glass houses" had been packed away, and the clinical silence of the South Wing had been utterly annihilated by the reality of four children under one roof. If the Valenti estate was once a fortress of solitude, it was now a vibrant, noisy, and beautifully disorganized hive of life.

The morning light filtered through the half-drawn blinds of the private hospital room, making everything it touched glow. The air carried the faint antiseptic tang of disinfectant mixed with the subtle floral notes of the get-well bouquet of lilies and roses placed on the bedside table. Monitors beeped steadily in the background, a rhythmic reminder that she was alive, that the nightmare from the night before had not claimed her