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26
ADDIE
Addie’s face was pressed against the glass of the OR observation window, her eyes locked on Sophie’s small, motionless body on the table.
The monitors still beeped, drowning out every rational thought. She was helpless, a bystander, forced to watch as her daughter’s life slipped away.
Her fists clenched and her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. Every instinct screamed at her to get in there, to do something, anything to save her child.
But she was stuck out here in the viewing room, forced to rely on Giselle. Giselle, who couldn’t understand what this meant. Whodidn’t know what it was to love, to lose, to sacrifice. The words boiled up, uncontrollable, unstoppable.
“Giselle!” she shouted, her hands hitting the glass as if that would somehow get through to her. “You’re letting her die!”
The people around her shifted, some glancing her way and murmuring, but she ignored them. Her broken voice echoed through the hallway. “Do you even care?”
Madeline reached out, trying to speak, but Addie shook her off. She wasn’t in the mood for calming words, not when Sophie lay there, still and silent. And not with Giselle standing there, hands steady, face focused, so in control, as if this were any other surgery.
“Do you know what it means to lose someone you love?” Addie’s voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet. “Do you just let them slip away, too?”
She watched as Giselle’s shoulders tensed, a slight falter in her movements. Each second that passed with her daughter lying there motionless infuriated Addie. Each steady move of Giselle’s hands onSophie’s small, fragile body twisted the pain deeper inside her.
“Addie, please, it’s best if you step away,” Madeline said.
Addie ignored her, her gaze burning into Giselle through the glass. She wanted her to understand, to feel the weight of this, to know the agony of loving someone so completely that losing them felt like losing everything.
“Do you hear me, Giselle?” Her voice was hoarse, each word scraping her throat. “This isn’t just a patient. This is mydaughter. This is my everything. You wouldn’t know what that means, would you? Because you’ve never let yourself care. Not about anyone. Not even about me.”
Addie’s vision blurred, but she forced herself to keep her eyes on the scene inside the OR. She couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop shouting. There was nothing left but this, this desperate cry for someone—anyone—to understand her pain.
27
GISELLE
“Charge to fifty,” Giselle said, forcing her voice to stay even.
The nurse nodded as she positioned the paddles, her movements sharp and efficient. Giselle adjusted her stance, keeping her eyes on the heart monitor. It was weak and erratic. Another tech checked the readings, and her face was pale.
“Ready,” the nurse said.
“Clear.” Giselle pressed the paddles to Sophie’s small chest, and the shock jolted through her tiny body, lifting her slightly off the table. They watched the monitor, waiting for a response.
A faint blip appeared, small but there.
“We’re not losing her,” Giselle muttered, her hands gripping the paddles. “Charge again. This time to seventy-five.”
The nurse set the charge, her eyes flicking between her and the monitor. She handed her the paddles, the desperate energy palpable between them.
“Clear.”
The second shock hit, and Sophie’s body arched. Giselle’s gaze snapped to the monitor, watching as the line steadied, the small pulses growing stronger. A steady beat appeared, faint but holding.
“Heart rate stabilizing,” the tech reported, her voice calm, but Giselle could see the relief in her face.
She exhaled, leaning in to check the incision, her fingers steady as she adjusted the clamp, easing the pressure around the vessel. Sophie’s heart beat stronger, each pulse echoing in the room, a steady rhythm that had been painfully absent before.
“Good. Let’s keep the drain steady,” she said, her focus locked on Sophie. She glanced at the nurse. “Prep another suture here. We’re going to close up soon.”
The nurse moved quickly as Giselleworked, her hands precise and her mind clear. The bleeding was under control, each step leading them closer to the end. She adjusted her grip, each motion fueled by the relief that surged through her.