A young nurse was washing a guy in a coma, but one day when she pulled back the blanket, she was totally floored by what she saw

This was a man trapped in a never-ending silence. Anna swallowed hard and stepped closer, adjusting his IV drip before reaching for the warm cloth prepared for him. She hesitated for just a second before gently pressing it against his skin.

The moment she touched him, a strange chill ran through her spine, a sensation she couldn’t explain. Like he could feel her there. Like somewhere in the depths of his unconsciousness, he knew.

A soft beep from the heart monitor filled the silence, steady and rhythmic. Anna shook off the odd feeling and continued her work, carefully wiping his arms, his chest, making sure his body remained clean and cared for. I guess you don’t get a say in this, huh? She murmured, almost to herself.

Silence. I’ll take that as a no. A small smile tugged at her lips to spite herself.

The days turned into a routine. Every morning and evening, Anna would bathe him, change his sheets, monitor his vitals. But soon it wasn’t just about medical care.

She found herself talking to him, telling him stories about her day, about the world outside his window. You should see the cafeteria food, Grant. It’s tragic.

Even for a billionaire, I doubt you’d survive it. Silence. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.

Maybe I just like the sound of my own voice. Silence. Silence.

Or maybe you’re actually listening. The heart monitor beeped steadily, as if answering her. And maybe, just maybe he was.

Anna hummed softly as she dipped a clean washcloth into the warm water. The sterile quiet of Grant’s private hospital suite was something she had grown used to over the weeks. The steady beep of the heart monitor, the faint hum of the IV drip, it was all part of the background now.

She leaned over the bed, carefully wiping Grant’s face, her fingers gentle but precise. You know, she said, her voice light. I read somewhere that people in commas can still hear things.

So, technically, you’re the worst listener I’ve ever met. No response, of course. She sighed, shaking her head.

It’s okay. I’m used to talking to myself now. She moved to clean the curve of his jaw when, a slight movement, her breath caught.

Had she imagined it? She froze, staring at his hand. Nothing. The fingers lay motionless against the crisp white sheets.

Anna let out a small laugh, shaking her head. Great, now I’m hallucinating. Maybe I’m the one who needs a hospital bed.

But the unease lingered. And over the next few days, it happened again. The second time, she was adjusting his pillow.

She wasn’t looking when she felt it. The faintest pressure against her wrist. Her head snapped down.

Grant’s hand had shifted. Only by a fraction of an inch, but enough to make her stomach flip. Grant, she whispered, hardly realizing she had said his name.

Silence. The same rhythmic beep, beep, beep of the monitor. She placed her hand over his, feeling his warmth, his stillness, his potential movement.

Nothing. Was she imagining things? Or was something changing? Anna couldn’t shake the feeling, so she reported it to Dr. Harris. He moved? The doctor arched a skeptical brow…