Chapter 20
Early that morning, Issac woke from an ominous dream. Outside, the winter felt like an ice age. In the below–zero temperatures, he opened his window, letting snow cover him.
A self–imposed punishment.
Issac envied Lucas deeply. He could openly stand beside Evelyn, support her through difficulties, raise a beautiful child with her – everything Issac had dreamed of in his youth, now forever beyond his reach.
In his dream, those soft lips he’d kissed countless times spoke with icy finality:
“Are you trying to kill me a second time, Issac? Come any closer, and I’ll refuse the surgery.”
“If that’s what you want, I’ll die in front of you again.”
Issac looked terrible. These nightmares always left him cold and trembling. Dr. York had warned him that fighting through panic attacks wasn’t the solution.
So he grabbed his medication, hands shaking as he poured too many pills into his mouth, teeth clenching.
So bitter.
The surgery light came on. Lucas stood in the emergency stairwell, encountering Issac lighting a cigarette.
“I don’t smoke,” Lucas said, eyeing him complexly, refusing the offered cigarette. Issac didn’t seem offended, his face unnaturally flushed as he lowered his gaze.
Leaning against the door, Issac stared through the smoke hazily. “Aren’t you nervous?” he asked softly.
“Evelyn promised me,” Lucas answered indirectly. “She’ll be fine.”
Of course he was nervous, but he couldn’t show it. With both a sick woman and a young child at home, Lucas had to stand strong as the family’s pillar.
If he showed fear, who would comfort Eva and Evelyn?
A month ago they’d been rivals, now they shared the same anxiety. The two men stood apart, their
breath visible in the winter air.
“Never married?TM
It’s Too Late for Your Expired Regrets
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Chapter 20
Issac lit a second cigarette, the lighter briefly illuminating his sweating face in the dim stairwell. He held it without smoking, watching the red ember burn.
“Never will,” he gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t want to ruin anyone else’s life. I’m such a bastard…”
“At least you know it,” Lucas said coldly. “You’re running a fever.”
“Thanks for caring.”
“I don’t want you to die,” Lucas said suddenly. “If you died, it would be unfair to me. You occupy too much space in Evelyn’s life – I have to admit that. If you died, she’d remember you forever.”
“She’d build a tomb for you in her heart, leaving the other half for Eva. That would leave too little room
for me. I can’t accept that.”
“For three years, I’ve been the one by her side, giving her everything. Issac, if you’re still human, if you feel any guilt, please stop disturbing her. Stay successful, remain the arrogant bastard in her memory –
that’s the only way she can truly forget you.”
The stairwell was windy, making Lucas speak slowly. Issac listened in silence until the cigarette burned his fingers.
As if waking from a dream, he nodded. “Alright.”
Lucas was right.
Sophia’s death wasn’t Evelyn’s fault. He’d tortured her with that excuse for five years, nearly driving her to death multiple times.
Issac’s throat was too dry to speak. He exhaled hotly, mouth open as if to say more, but Lucas left without looking at him.
His phone kept buzzing – probably Dr. York calling. She was a dedicated psychiatrist who, despite her professional expertise, could never unlock the chains weighing on Issac’s heart.
Issac understood his own illness perfectly. The cure was simple: forget Evelyn.
But his longing to see her was like a stolen flame. He was Prometheus chained to the cliff, his flesh eternally devoured by eagles, yet welcoming the torture.
The surgery had been going for an hour and a half. Though the doctors had prepared them for a long procedure, Lucas couldn’t calm his anxiety. He sat on the bench outside, head in hands, praying.
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Chapter 20
As a former doctor, he’d been a firm atheist. Only now, with someone he loved facing life and death behind those doors, did he understand why so many people prayed in hospitals.
“Family of the patient? Is the family here?” The operating room door opened briefly. Lucas jumped up, looking anxiously at the nurse.
“Sign this critical condition notice.” The nurse pointed to the white paper.
Lucas froze. As a doctor, he’d asked countless families to sign these forms, but now, his hands shook so badly he could barely hold the pen.
Even knowing this didn’t necessarily mean something had gone wrong.
The nurse was clearly in a hurry. Lucas forced himself to steady his hand, signing his name before she rushed back into surgery.
His eyes reddened. Unable to sit still any longer, he paced anxiously.
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