Novel Square
91
As I sat in the car, frozen in disbelief, time seemed to grind to a halt. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what had just transpired. The events of the past few moments replayed in my head like a broken record, each repetition only deepening the sense of shock and confusion. Cher had been involved in an accident. My heart raced as I struggled to process the information, my thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of worry.
In the midst of the chaos inside my mind, a multitude of scenarios played out like scenes from a movie. Each one more terrifying than the last, they were a reflection of my fear and concern for Cher’s well-being. Was she okay? Was her husband unharmed? And the baby my god, the baby! Panic surged through me like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me in a sea of anxiety.
Raindrops, which had fallen incessantly just moments before, had now ceased. But as if on cue, tears began to stream down my cheeks. The rain within me matched the storm that had just passed. I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness a spectator to a life-altering event, unable to change the outcome. The car ride to the hospital was a blur, the world outside a canvas of smeared colors and blurred lines. Emotions churned within me like a tempest, ranging from fear and anger to a deep sense of regret.
Ace and Alex, mirrored my feelings with their own colorful language. Curses and expletives filled the car, the rawness of the situation leaving us stripped of any pretense. Their anger was directed at Cher, for not heeding their advice to stay put. “She should’ve just stayed,” Ace muttered, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. It was a sentiment that I couldn’t help but agree with, even as I knew that laying blame was futile.
We burst into the hospital, our urgency palpable as we ran inside, fear propelling us forward. My heart raced, a chaotic symphony of beats echoing in my chest. My head spun with a dizzying mix of emotions, a whirlwind of anxiety and desperation that threatened to overwhelm me. The reception desk loomed in front of us, and in a breathless rush, we gasped out Cher’s name, our voices a blend of worry and hope. Without hesitation, the hospital staff led us through the labyrinthine corridors to the operating room.
“They are trying to save her and her baby,” the nurse’s words hung in the air like a lifeline, a fragile thread of optimism amidst the turmoil. The gravity of the situation settled heavily upon us, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe. My thoughts raced, a ceaseless loop of prayers and fears, an unending plea for Cher’s safety. But even in the midst of my concern for her, my mind couldn’t help but question the fate of her husband. “What about her husband?” The words escaped my lips before I could consider the implications.
The nurse’s gaze spoke volumes, a silent language that conveyed the truth before she uttered a single word. The look in her eyes was somber, and I felt a pang of dread deep in my chest. “Unfortunately he passed away on the way to the hospital,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of the inevitable. The room seemed to close in around us, the walls narrowing to focus solely on the enormity of the loss we had suffered. Ace and Alex’s curses rang out, sharp and raw, a manifestation of their grief and anger. My eyes welled with tears, a mixture of sorrow and disbelief pooling within them.
I crossed the space to where Ace and Alex stood, their emotions spilling over in a torrent of anguish. “Guys, we need to be strong,” I urged, my voice a fragile attempt to anchor us amidst the storm. “We need to pray for Cher and the baby.” My own voice trembled, the words a lifeline as much for me as for them. Together, we stood united in our pain, bound by the depth of our relationship and the shared hope that somehow, amidst the chaos, a flicker of light would emerge.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly as we sat outside the operating room, a tense silence enveloping us. The heaviness in the air was palpable, each of us lost in our thoughts, grappling with the enormity of the situation. The minutes blended together, a ceaseless rhythm of waiting and wondering. The sterile surroundings seemed to mirror the sterile ache in my chest, a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the unpredictable twists it could take.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and a doctor emerged, his expression a mix of weariness and professionalism. We all turned to him, our collective gaze a reflection of our collective anxiety. “I have good news and bad news,” he began, his words a knife-edge of anticipation that sliced through the air. My heart threatened to burst from my chest, the tension in the room coiling tighter. “What’s the good news?” Ace’s voice wavered, a fragile thread of hope.
“The good news is the baby survived,” the doctor’s words hung in the air, a glimmer of light in the darkness. Alex exhaled audibly, relief washing over him like a tidal wave. “And the bad news?” The question hung heavy, the room suspended in a breathless pause. The doctor’s gaze moved from one face to another, his expression a blend of empathy and sorrow. “The mother didn’t,” he finally said, his voice gentle yet final.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.