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Nicholas’s POV
+25 BONUS
The ICU door opened with a sound that dragged my attention. Several nurses emerged, pushing a gurney with Sabrina lying on it. Her body looked so small and fragile under the white blanket. Her face was pale, almost colorless, and her eyes were still tightly closed. She wasn’t even aware that she was being taken to the operating
room.
My heart trembled at the sight of her in that state. Fear and anxiety enveloped my mind. What would happen next? Would she be okay? Each question spun around, creating wives of painful uncertainty.
I wanted to run to her, hold her hand, and tell her that I was here, that she wasn’t alone. Yet, I could only stand there, silent, feeling the weight of the situation. Seeing her helpless reminded me of how vulnerable we are as humans.
My heart sank seeing her. My body felt stiff, but I managed to stand from my chair and approach them. My steps were heavy, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on my shoulders.
“Sabrina,” I murmured softly, almost inaudibly.
There was no reaction. She remained quiet, her breath only visible from the gentle rise and fall of her chest. The tubes connected to her body and the monitor beeping softly created an image I never wanted to imagine.
Every second felt like an eternity, and helplessness seeped into me. Seeing her lying there made me feel as if the world around me had stopped spinning. The beautiful memories we shared seemed to replay in my mind, offering a bit of warmth amid the coldness of this situation.
I wished I could reach out and wake her from this nightmare. “You have to get up, darling,” I thought, feeling tears welling at the corners of my eyes. The sadness was so deep, but I tried to hold back from succumbing to panic.
I knew that she was a fighter. She had been through so much in her life, and I wanted to believe that she would get through this as well. With every rhythmic beep of the monitor, I steeled my resolve, promising to always be by her side, no matter how difficult the road ahead might be.
As I stared at her pale face, I was determined to be the strength she needed, to keep hope alive, and to wait for the moment she would return to my embrace.
The nurse pushing the gurney glanced at me for a moment. “I’m sorry, sir. We need to take her to the operating room immediately.”
I nodded heavily. “May I walk with you to the entrance of the operating room?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
The nurse looked at me with sympathy and nodded slightly. “Of course, sir.”
With slow but firm steps, I followed them. Each step felt heavy, and my heart raced. Seeing Sabrina lying on that gurney made me feel a mix of hope and fear. I wanted to remember how she smiled, how she always found a way to make everything better.
Along the way, I tried to calm my mind. “She will be okay, whispered to myself repeatedly. Yet, the voice of doubt continued to fill my mind, demanding attention.
My steps kept pace with them, alongside the creaking wheels of the gurney on the floor. The sound felt piercing, echoing in the long, quiet corridor. My gaze never left Sabrina. Her once cheerful face felt so distant now.
I wanted to hold her hand, to talk to her, to plead with her to hang in there. Each passing second made me Increasingly anxious. Beautiful memories with her spun in my mind–our laughter in the park, long
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conversations at night, the little moments that always made life feel meaningful.
Fear pressed against my chest. What if this was the last time I saw her? I couldn’t imagine life without her presence. With hope, I tried to remind myself that she was rong, a person who had overcome many challenges.
As we approached the operating room door, I felt tears welling in my eyelids. I wanted to scream, “Don’t go, Sabrina!” but the words were caught in my throat.
Finally, as the gumey stopped and the nurses began to prepare, I stepped a little closer. “Sabrina,” I whispered, trying to make my voice heard. “You are not alone. I’m here for you. Hang in there, darling.”
The operating room door opened, and I knew it was time to part ways. With a heavy heart, I stepped back, praying that she could feel my love, even in this difficult state,
When we reached the entrance of the operating room, one of the doctors stopped me. “This is as far as you can go, Mr. Nicholas,” he said gently but firmly.
I nodded, even though my heart screamed to stay with her. I stood still, watching as Sabrina was slowly pushed into the operating room. Before the door closed, I saw the doctors and the medical team begin to prepare inside, setting up equipment and getting ready for the procedure.
“Sabrina,” I called out again, my voice trembling.
Anxiety flooded me, and I could no longer hold back the tears. I wanted her to know that I was here, that I loved her, and would always support her. As the door closed, it felt as if the world around me faded away. The sounds of machines and footsteps grew faint, and I felt disconnected from reality.
Out there, everything felt hollow. I turned away, trying to calm myself by thinking of all the moments we had shared together. Yet, the pain and fear continued to haunt me.
I walked back, searching for a place to sit and wait. In my heart, I prayed for her strength and survival. Every second felt like an eternity, and I knew I had to be patient. Sabrina was a fighter, and I would wait until she returned to my arms.
The door closed softly, but its impact felt like a heavy hammer striking my chest. I could only stand there, staring at the door that had now become a barrier between her and me. The operating room had become a battleground for her life, and I could only wait outside, helpless.
Uncertainty crept into my mind, shaking the foundation of my faith. Every passing second felt like an increasingly heavy burden. I felt waves of emotion–fear, anxiety, hope–all blending into one.
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