The waiting room was a blur of bright lights and the smell of coffee and tea. For six hours, the only sound was the steady ticking of the clock on the wall and the occasional squeak of a nurse’s shoes on the hallway.
James paced with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, while Luca sat beside me, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles into the back of my hand.
Every time the heavy double doors of the operating wing opened, we all stood up in unison, our hearts in our throats, only for a different doctor to walk past without a glance.
The 30% chance felt like a ghost hanging over us. I kept thinking about the last thing my father said and I hopeed with everything in me he was going to fight and that he knew that he still owed us time.
He just can't go without being the father that
