Chapter 9
The next day, I was indeed transferred to a regular ward.
As the nurse wheeled my bed in, I immediately spotted the Lisianthus flowers on the windowsill, their petals still dotted with dewdrops.
Patrick plucked one and placed it in my palm.
“Just bought them this morning. Fresh.”
“Yeah, they smell lovely too.”
We sat talking for hours. From our first meeting, to my memory loss, then Patrick searching everywhere for a matching heart donor, and finally engineering our reunion.
“So why not just tell me directly? You wouldn’t have waited so long. What if I never remembered?”
“Would you have believed me? I feared shocking you. Besides,” he smiled, “even if you didn’t remember, you fell for me all over again.”
“So everyone at the hospital knew? Only I was kept in the dark?” “Pretty much.”
I chuckled softly, inching closer to him.
Over the following days, Patrick took leave from the hospital to stay with me constantly. I should’ve been overjoyed, yet I wasn’t.
My heart now ached frequently–a new sensation. Even in this regular ward, monitors still snaked across my body like in ICU,
Chapter 9
Nurses and doctors dodged my questions. I remained clueless about my condition.
Come Monday afternoon, I knew the doctor would round. After lunch, I feigned deep sleep.
Patrick arrived first. His fingers brushed through my hair before clasping my hand. Scalding tears suddenly fell on my skin, each drop searing into my heart.
Soon, the doctor entered.
I heard him scrutinizing the monitors, then the soft rustle of papers.
Both men stepped onto the balcony, gently closing the glass door. Even through the barrier, their conversation pierced the air.
“Patrick, you see it too. Ruth’s condition… The massive hemorrhage strained her heart. Now these recurring rejection episodes–myocardial necrosis could strike anytime.”
“I know, but-” Patrick’s voice choked.
Peeking through my lashes, I saw him. Tears escaped my own eyes.
How could I not grieve? I refuse to leave him alone again…..
“Still, don’t lose hope. Rejection’s common post–transplant, Ruth might still improve. Treatment could work.”
Silence hung heavy.
“Stay with her. I’ll go.”
The room turned still. I wrestled down my emotions, waiting minutes before pretending to stir awake.
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Patrick’s eyes were bloodshot
He strained to compose himself. I played oblivious, steering us to lighter topics
How I wished, like the doctor said, I’d mend like others.
Yet fate spun stubbornly against my wishes
