Chapter 5 - The Longest Six HoursSix hours.
Six hours is an eternity when your six-year-old daughter is lying on an operating table with her chest open while the man you once loved—and perhaps still loved—tries to rewrite biology.
Margaret had retreated to her private office on the top floor after Ethan’s threat, leaving me alone in the waiting suite. The hospital chaplain had stopped by twice to offer coffee, and nurses had dropped off status updates every thirty minutes, but time seemed to stretch and distort into a viscous, unmoving fog.
“Bypass established successfully.”
“Bio-synthetic patch integration: 90%.”
“Aortic valve repaired.”
Each update was a tiny anchor pulling me back from the edge of panic.
At minute three hundred and sixty-two, the heavy oak doors of the surgical suite finally hissed open.
Ethan walked out.
He had removed his surgical mask and cap, revealing dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His scrubs were stained at the cuffs, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. He looked exhausted, drained to the bone, but as he looked across the waiting room and caught my eye, a slow, radiant smile broke across his face.
I bolted out of my chair, running down the corridor toward him.
“Ethan?” I choked out, grabbing his arms. “Is she...?”
“She’s perfect,” Ethan breathed, pulling me into a fierce, desperate embrace right there in the middle of the hallway. “The patch integrated seamlessly. Her heart rhythm is stable, strong, and beating on its own. Claire... she’s going to run, she’s going to jump, and she’s going to live a long, healthy life.”
I buried my face in his damp scrubs, sobbing tears of pure, unadulterated relief as Ethan wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my hair, holding me as if he would never let go.
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“Thank you,” I whispered against his chest. “Thank you, Ethan.”
“She’s our daughter,” he murmured fiercely, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. “It was the easiest surgery I’ve ever performed because failure was never an option.”
