Chapter 20
Arthur dreamed something ill–fated the night before, stirring awake at the first pale hint of morning. Beyond the window, the cold was so severe it might as well
have been the Ice Age
In the merciless grip of below zero winter, he threw open the pane and let the snow pelt down on him, sharp and unsparing. It was as. se were inflicting this tomment on himuli.
He couldn’t help but envy Sylvan, who could stand beside Cindy, who had weathered so many trials with her, and who now shared the joy of raising a radiant, angelicchild
It was the life Arthur had once longed for with every fiber of his being, a future now lost to him forever. And in the dream, those lips–the same tender lips he had kissed a thousand times—culed around words as trigid and unyielding as steel.
“Arthur, are you trying to get me killed again? If you come any closer, I’ll call off the surgery and die right before you all over again, just like you wanted.
Arthur’s face was ashen. Nightmares always left him drenched in sweat, his hands and feet prickling with numbness, Christine had warned him that white- knuckling his way through panic attacks wasn’t exactly a sustainable strategy.
he fumbled for the pill bottle beside him, his fingers trembling as he shook out a reckless handful from the narrow opening into his palm and tossed them into his mouth, cushing them between hästeeth. They tasted terrible.
The operating room light flickered on. Sylvan found Arthur
lighting up by the
mergency exit.
“I don’t smoke,” Sylvan said, his expression unreadable as he tumed down the cigarette.
Arthur didn’t get angry. He kept his gaze lowered, his cheeks oddly flushed. Leaning against the door, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes grew hazy behind
the vest of smoke
“Aren’t you nervous?” he asked.
“Cindy gave me her word. She’d be fine,” Sylvan replied, ignoring the question.
Of course, he was nervous, but he couldn’t afford to show it, with a sick one and a young one depending on him, Sylvan had to be their rock–the one who never
Who would be there to hold Celeste and Cindy steady it be cracked?
Sylvan and Arthur had been at each other’s throats a month ago over Cindy. Now they stood on opposite sides of the hallway, united only by the same silent tear, their breaths visible in the frigid ain
“You never got married?” Sylvan asked.
Arthur ticked his lighter, the flame flaring briefly over his damp forehead before he lit his second cigarette. He didn’t take a drag right away. Instead, be let it smolder between his fingers, the tip glowing like a dying star.
“Not Lappening,” Arthur said, chuckding “No point dragging someone else down with a fuckup like me
“Glad you’re self–aware You’re running a fever,” Sylvan said flatly.
Thanks for pointing that out.”
“I don’t want you dead,” Sylvan said out of nowhere. “That’d be unfair to me. You take up too much space in Cindy’s life–thate it, but it’s the truth. If you die,
he’ll never let you go.
“She’ll bury you deep in her heart, with whatever space is left going to Celeste. And me? I refuse to be an afterthought. I’ve been there for her these years, giving her everything.
e past there
“So, Arthur, if you’ve got even a shred of decency lett–if you care about berat all–then walk away. Live your life, stay that perfect, untouchable bastard in her mind. It’s the only way she’ll ever move on.”
The wind howled through the stairwell, carrying Sylvan’s measured words.
Arthur didn’t say a word until his cigarette burned down to the filter, the ember searing his fingers. The sting jolted him awake, like surfacing from some deep. drowning dreamn
He nodded. “Fine.”
Sylvan had a point. Cindy wasn’t to blame for Winter’s death But Arthur had used it as a weapon against her for five years, and thanks to him, she’d nearly died
ok at him, yanking the door
Arthur’s thrust was bone dry,
- his voice gour. He let out a burning breath, lips parting as if to say someilding, but Sylvan didn’t even look at
open and Iraving
Arthur’s phone kept buzzing in his pocket. It had to be Christine. She was a dedicated doctor, who was brilliant at her job, yet even she couldn’t undo the weight
left her was like a tire he’d paid too
He kurwexactly what was wrong with him. Fixing it should’ve been simple – all he had to do was let go of Cindy. But his longing murti to keep alive, que that boumed him endlessly, a pomislament be canded almost gratefully.
An hour and a half had passed since the surgery had begun. The doctors had prepared them for a long wall, but Sylvan couldn’t shake the dread pooling in his
He sank onto the bench outside the operating room, flügen pressed to his forehead, eyes closed in silent prayer. For years, he’d been a doctor, who trust-
But that was before the person he loved mest lay on the other alde of those doors, her life hanging by a thread. Only then did he understand wh
dny people in
hospitals tumed to prayer as if it were the only thing left to hold onto.
“Patient’s family/Is the patient’s family here?”
The operating room door cracked open for a split second before snapping shut again. Sylvan sprang up, his pulse hammering as he zeroed in on the nurse.
“We need your signature on the emergency treatment consent form,” she said, tapping the crisp white paper.
sylvan’s mind went blank. He’d handed these forms to families dozens of times throughout his career. But now, facing one himself, his hand trembled so badly he mold barely hold the pen steady, even though he knew it didn’t mean Cindy was in danger.
The nurse shifted impatiently, Gritting his teeth, Sylvan fought back the panic and scrawled his signature. Without a word, the muse snatched the disappeared into the operating room.
Sylvan’s eyes burned with emotion Sitting still was no longer an option. He shot to his feet and began pacing restlessly.
