Will the Peonies Bloom?

A Story by h1ya

Sounds of footsteps echoed in the hallway of the hospital, as the door to room 2234 opened softly. A man, well into his forties, stepped in, his soft, kind brown eyes darting to the figure on the bed. His wife. Comatose. For four, long, agonizing years. The soft buzzing of the machines keeping her alive, and the hum of the fluorescent lights were the only sound piercing through the silence in the room.

He still remembers the day vividly. 18 November, 2019. The day his world shattered into tiny, irreparable pieces. He still remembers how he got up that morning at 8, had breakfast, and stepped out for work, just like any ordinary day. He remembers going to work, hoping to finalize a deal. Then, with a feeling akin to twisting a knife in his heart, he remembers the phone call, he remembers the voice of a woman urging him to come to the hospital, his wife, his sole anchor in this world, had an accident. He remembers rushing to the hospital, driving fast, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles turned white. He remembers standing outside the operation theatre, waiting for the doctor to tell him something, anything. He remembers the world slipping away from beneath his feet when the surgeon delivered him the news, his wife suffered severe brain damage, and her waking up was unlikely. He remembers feeling utterly hopeless, helpless, unable to speak, move, think. He remembers being unable to even cry, too shocked. He remembers everything, too vividly, with too much clarity, with too much grief, with anguish so terrible that it eats him alive, everyday.

It had been 4 years since the day his life turned upside down, and it has never been the same ever since. He lets out a sigh, placing the bouquet of peonies, his wife’s favorite, near the table, hoping she would wake up, and smile, or berate him for spending money on mere flowers, that would wither. He keeps his weary brown eyes on her closed ones, noticing her sunken cheeks, her pale face; she looks peaceful, as if asleep. If only she was asleep. His gaze falls to her lips, and he remembers her smile, with her crooked teeth, a smile that brightened up his entire world. Her eyes. God, her eyes. Those beautiful green eyes, sparkling with mirth, now closed. Forever, it seems.

Suddenly, fingers twitched, as if sensing his presence, wanting to reach out, hold him. His eyes filled with hope, as a ghost of a smile made its way to his face. Then, remembrance punched him in the gut.

That twitch, it was normal, had been happening for the past year. The first time it happened, he ran to call the doctor, who gave him hope, as usual, that she might wake up soon. He waited for her for a fortnight, then, waiting for her to wake up, not leaving her side. She didn’t wake up, merely twitched her finger two more times, with no signs of waking up. His already shattered heart shattered into even more pieces at the realization. The knife lodged into his still-beating heart twisted even more. He fell into despair even more.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he let out, “Good evening, Hiromi.” He spoke her name, with devotion, reverence pouring out of his soul.
“Work was tiring, as usual.’’ He spoke about his day, his mundane, boring day.
“I brought you peonies.” He said, in a hushed tone, like a secret shared between two lovers.
“I.. miss you.” He let out, finally, with a sigh.
“I pray to God, go to the church, everyday, and pray for you to wake up, for you to look up at me, for you to smile, for you to speak, for you to live, for you to love, for you.” He continued.
“I even wish at 11:11, just for you to wake up..” He lets out, eyes red, tears threatening to spill.
A drop of tear falls on her unmoving hand, as he finally lets out his tears, soft sobs wrecking his body, pain, anger, helplessness coursing through his body. Pain of seeing his lover, his wife, unmoving. Anger at himself for failing to protect her. Helpless, being unable to soothe her pain.

He wipes off his tears, and gets up, bidding her goodbye, only for him to end up at the room the very next day, bringing her the same peonies, replacing the old ones. He listens to the sound of her breathing, soft and rhythmic, and calming.

He talks to her about his day, his work, the peonies, the church, the praying.

Then, he feels her eyes stir. No, must be his imagination. Her eyes opened. This, this can’t be his imagination.
“Hiromi.. you.. are.. awake.” He stood up, weary eyes suddenly getting the light back in them, lips no longer holding that ghost of a smile, lips holding a real, reverent smile. His eyes met her green ones, still the same eyes he fell in love with at fifteen. His world was awake, staring at him. Tears fell, not the sad ones, happy ones, as he rushed to call the nurses and the doctors, telling them the news. His wife, his lover, his world, woke up, after four long agonizing years.

His heart repaired, his happiness returned, all his sadness, pain, anger, despair vanished.

“Who are.. you?” Hiromi let out, after a long pause.

The knife lodged in his heart twisted again.

-The End-

© 2025 h1ya

Author's Note

please point out where i can improve<3

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Cer

A wonderful read, I must say, the way you vividly portrayed every scene gave so much meaning and emotion to mere words. The agonising pain felt by the husband and yet his love and devotion to his wife, was beautifully written about. Felt like I one-shot I'd die to read the whole book of, but some stories leave more meaning when you're left to guess on your own :) Liked it, kudos!