Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Sallie hung up the phone and hurried toward the operating room.

She arrived to find Herbert holding Jessica upright while a nurse urged Jessica to sign the critical condition consent form.

Her grandfather had just come out of a coma-he was barely conscious, still weak and pale. Her father hadn't woken up yet. Jessica, shaken and distraught, was in no state to sign anything.

Sallie herself was far from calm; her palms were slick with cold sweat as she rushed down the hallway. But she forced herself to focus. She had to hold it together.

Herbert tried to reason with Jessica, his voice gentle but urgent. "Whenever a patient's in a life-threatening crisis, the doctors always ask for this consent form. It doesn't mean there's no hope. There's still a chance they can save him."

As a doctor himself, Herbert understood the situation all too well. It was protocol- grim as it sounded, the family had to sign, even if it meant the outlook was bleak. But the emergency team wouldn't stop trying.noveldrama

Jessica's right hand trembled violently as she gripped the pen.

"We can't wait any longer," the nurse pressed, her tone clipped and insistent.

"I'll sign." Sallie stepped in, taking the pen from Jessica's shaking hand. She scanned the document-internal bleeding, old injuries aggravated by new trauma, a severe laceration on the forehead, and the threat of a fatal cerebral hemorrhage.

Her heart clenched painfully in her chest, but she forced herself to sign her name.

The nurse disappeared through the doors. The operating room doors swung shut with a heavy thud that echoed down the sterile corridor.

Jessica felt her own heart plummet.

The hallway was cold and silent, the only movement coming from the light above the operating room door, flickering relentlessly.

Jessica slumped against the wall, drained of all strength. Herbert held onto her, but she felt weightless, as if gravity was dragging her downward and only his grip kept her from collapsing.

"I'll take you to sit down," Herbert offered, steadying her.

Jessica shook her head. "I can't move."

Her legs felt like they were made of lead; just lifting her feet seemed impossible. There weren't words for the turmoil inside her.

Her brother used to tell her that every hardship she faced was a stepping stone that would make her stronger, that one day she'd leave them behind. But right now, she couldn't believe it. The weight on her chest was suffocating.

Her illness hadn't broken her. But the thought of Timothy dying-this pain cut deeper than her cancer ever could.

She'd endured so much, clinging to a hopeless marriage, holding on only because she loved him. When she finally walked away, all she could do was tyto take her love back, but in these last few months, she hadn't managed to rip him from her heart. That love was etched into her very bones.

He was the light that had illuminated her world at its darkest.

She remembered the moment he picked her up in his arms, the wild flutter of her heart-how it had changed her. In the four years that followed, she kept track of his every move, unable to let go.

Love, like motion, builds its own

momentum. The longer you love, the

more force that momentum

vel

gathers when it finally stops, it doesn't just halt; it drags you

forward a while before finally letting

you go. Eleven years of loving him couldn't be erased in three or four months.

Sallie, confused and worried, saw Jessica's pale, stricken face but didn't go to her. Instead, she approached Nola.

Nola shook her head. "I don't know what happened. We were here to get Henry tested as a donor. We ran into Jessica and Herbert in the elevator-only then did we find out Timothy's in surgery."

Given the circumstances, Sallie

couldn't press Jessica for answers. Timothy had been trying to mend things with Jessica, and Sallie was afraid that if she lost control and

upset Jessica, she'd only make things worse-for everyone, especially Timothy.