65. No Matter What
Ryan
Finally, the light in the operating room goes out.
That small red light, on for hours, has been our only sign of what's happening behind the closed door. Its sudden extinguishing makes no noise, but we feel its weight. It's the signal: the operation is over.
Michelle and I stood up almost at the same time, as if our bodies had been on pause, waiting for this very moment. There are no words, just glances exchanged, holding our breath.
Soon after, a nurse appears. She looks for us and nods with a calm gesture.
“You can see her now. She's in recovery.”
My chest slowly loosens, as if only now can I truly breathe. Michelle grabs my arm. She says nothing, but her firm grip reminds me that we are in this together, that I'm not alone.
We walk down the hallway while
