But Elias was nowhere near her.
And even though disappointment kept breaking her heart over and over again, that stubborn hope inside her chest refused to die completely.
So she kept texting him every day.
As though she were leaving pieces of herself behind for him to read someday.
Little letters filled with pain.
Fear.
Loneliness.
Love.
So much love.
But every single message remained unseen.
He never opened them.
Never replied.
Never reacted.
Nothing.
And the more she stared at those unread messages, the more one painful thought slowly began consuming her.
‘Does he really not care about me at all…?’
And then—
The day of the surgery finally came.
Amara lay on the stretcher outside the operating theater, staring blankly at the bright white ceiling above her as doctors and nurses moved around her. The bright white lights above her were so harsh that they made her already pale face look almost colorless. Her fingers clutched the thin hospital blanket tightly against her stomach while her heartbeat pounded violently inside her chest.
Every few seconds, she forced herself to inhale slowly, but the air still felt trapped inside her lungs. Her fingers trembled uncontrollably against the blanket as her eyes remained fixed on the operation theatre doors only a few feet away from her.
Cold.
Silent.
Terrifying.
The thought that she might enter that room and never wake up again made panic crawl through every inch of her body.
A doctor walked over toward her while looking through the papers in his hands. His expression softened slightly when he stopped beside her stretcher.
“Mrs. Creed,” he said gently, “this is a very serious surgery. If there are any family members you want here, you should call them now.”
The words made her chest ache sharply.
Almost instinctively, her trembling fingers reached for her phone again.
She had already called Elias again earlier.
The call still hadn’t gone through.
