A Fragile Heart [1]

Ten hours.

Ten agonizing, soul-draining hours.

After feeling like I'd run out of tears, patience, and even hope—finally, the doors swing open and the team of doctors steps out one by one, led by Dr. Paresh himself.

"Doctor!" I call out, my voice rough with fatigue and dread. My feet move before I even realize it, blocking his path.

"Mr. Bennet..." Dr. Paresh stops and faces me. The rest of the surgical team continues on past him, leaving the two of us alone in the hallway that suddenly feels far too cold.

"How is she?" I ask, cutting straight to the only thing that matters.

He pulls off his surgical cap with slow, deliberate hands and lets out a long breath before answering. "We were able to remove the iron from her heart and close the wound."

"And…?" My throat tightens around that word. I don't want to ask, but I have to.

Dr. Paresh exhales again, longer this time. That breath alone tells me it's not good.

"The iron pierced through two of her heart valves. It caused significant damage."

I feel like my heart hits the floor with a sickening thud. My chest tightens. My hands go numb. "But… you fixed it. You promised me you'd fix it..."

"I did everything I could, Sir. I truly did."

"But…?" I press, already bracing for the blow.

Another breath. Another hesitation.

"I repaired the damage. But…" His voice softens. "They won't function like they used to. Not fully."

My vision begins to blur—not with tears yet, but with the weight of dread creeping in.

"What does that mean?"

"At minimum, she will experience stenosis, regurgitation, or both."

My mind stalls. I stare at him blankly, willing myself to understand.

He continues gently, "Her valves may become stiff—making it difficult for them to open properly—or they might not close completely, which would cause blood to leak backward. Either condition would put a strain on her heart, forcing it to work harder to keep blood flowing. Over time, that can lead to muscle damage... even heart failure."

I close my eyes tightly, clenching my jaw. A deep, involuntary frown carves across my face. I feel as though someone just cut the floor out from under me.

"How bad?" I whisper. "I mean... you said you fixed them. So how bad is it, after being fixed?"

"That... I can't say, Sir. Not yet," he says with sincerity. "We'll only know once she regains consciousness. We need to run a full assessment."

"And until then… there's nothing we can do?"

Dr. Paresh shakes his head, sympathy written all over his face. "I'm afraid not. Not for now."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My shoulders drop, heavy with the weight of helplessness.

"Where is she?"

"Back in the ICU," he replies. "Same room as before," he adds, noticing my confusion.

I nod slowly. "Right…"

Dr. Paresh reaches out and places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, giving it a firm pat. "Don't lose hope, Mr. Bennet. This is a manageable condition. Fixable. We just need to understand the extent of the damage first. Then we'll know how to proceed."

My head nods faintly, like it's detached from the rest of me—my mind too numb to respond, too full of all the things I fear.

He pats my shoulder again, then turns and walks away, leaving me in the silent hallway, standing in the wake of words I'm not sure I was ready to hear.

-

Once again, I find myself back in this cold, sterile room, right beside Jennifer's bed.

Her left hand rests gently between both of mine, her skin warm against my forehead as I lean over, eyes closed, whispering silent prayers I'm not even sure how to form anymore. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the steady hiss of the air pump blend into the background—familiar, almost comforting in the way they keep reminding me she's still here… still breathing.

My watch beeps quietly. I glance down.

00:00 AM.

"Happy birthday, Baby," I whisper against her skin, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. "We'll celebrate it when you wake up, okay? I promise."

My voice trembles, but I go on, whispering to her ear like I truly believe she can hear me—because I do. I have to.

"Our baby is beautiful, Babe. She looks just like you. You'd melt the moment you saw her. Please… wake up soon, so you can hold her in your arms."

My voice falters. I pause—then my gaze shifts, catching movement at the door.

A group walks in.

Sara. Fred. Albert.

And… my eyes narrow slightly as I spot a fourth figure, hesitant, keeping a low profile behind Albert.

Charlotte.

"You..." I shoot to my feet, instincts taking over. My tone sharpens as I nearly raise my voice.

Charlotte immediately hides behind Albert's back.

"What do you want?" I growl, the heat in my voice barely restrained.

Sara steps forward and gently grabs my arm. "Scott, please…"

"She didn't mean to hurt you," Albert adds quickly, shifting aside and brushing back Charlotte's hair.

That's when I see it—a strange device latched across her scalp.

"She's had her punishment," Albert adds quietly, regretfully.

I exhale, sharp and heavy. "Speak," I say coldly, folding my arms.

Albert gives her a nudge forward, murmuring, "It's okay, Sugar. Tell him what you need to tell."

Charlotte inches toward me, her eyes flicking up with visible fear. "Death…"

"Scott," Fred and Sara correct her in unison, their voices low.

"I—I mean, Scott," she corrects quickly, almost tripping over the words. "I'm… I'm sorry."

Another step closer. Her voice is fragile, like something barely stitched together. "I never meant to hurt you. I never had a problem with you. You know that, right?"

I stay silent. She swallows.

"I owed her," she says, voice cracking. "I had to help Viper. She saved Gila."

"It's my fault," Albert says, his voice breaking.

"No, Tiger. It's not your fault," Charlotte murmurs.

"It is," he insists. "I was dying. And Black… she begged her. Promised to save me. And when she asked for something in return, Black didn't hesitate. She gave it."

Charlotte lowers her head and begins to cry silently. Albert wraps an arm around her shoulder, holding her tightly.

"Please, Bro," Albert says, his voice thick with emotion. "She's already been through hell. They made her wear that thing on her head. It blocks everything. She can't read minds anymore. She can't even hear silence the way she used to."

Charlotte buries her face in his chest. He strokes her back gently, trying to soothe her.

I take a slow breath.

"It happened," I finally say, my voice low but steady. "Right now, nothing matters more than Jennifer. Not revenge. Not grudges. Nothing."

Relief flashes across Albert's face. "So… you forgive her?"

"Sure," I say with a shrug, sinking back into the chair beside Jennifer and clasping her hand again. Her skin is still warm. Still here.

They hesitate. Still standing there.

"I need a moment alone with my wife," I add without looking back.

Albert clears his throat. "Su-sure." He gently turns Charlotte away and leads the group out of the room. Their footsteps fade behind me.

But I'm already gone—back to Jennifer. Back to the one who still hasn't opened her eyes.

-

I'm standing somewhere. Everything around me is wrapped in mist—soft, colorless, weightless. I can't see far, but I feel calm. At peace.

"Daddy..."

The voice of a little girl echoes through the fog, faint and sweet.

I turn toward it.

Through the haze, I see the shadow of a small girl running toward me. I drop to my knees and open my arms wide, bracing for the joy of her embrace.

But she never reaches me.

She vanishes.

"Where are you...?" I whisper into the emptiness, heart sinking into the silence.

Then—another voice, softer, closer, warmer—whispers in my ear: "Scott..."

A gentle touch brushes my lower arm.

I jolt upright, gasping.

It was a dream. The voice was Jennifer's. The touch—hers. I know it like I know my own breath. Even in sleep, I could never mistake it.

And then—again—I feel it.

Faint. Delicate. A small movement against the back of my hand.

I snap my eyes down to our hands. Hers is resting on mine. And now—her fingers are moving.

"Jen..." My voice breaks. "Jennifer, Baby..."

Her fingers twitch again, this time stronger.

"Are you awake, Baby?" I whisper, barely able to speak through the emotion tightening my throat. I gently squeeze her hand.

Her eyelids flutter. Slowly, carefully, she opens them. Just a sliver.

"Hi, Baby..." My lips tremble. My voice is shaking. "Hi..."

She squints, her eyes adjusting to the light.

"Where... Where am I?" she whispers, voice hoarse and broken.

I grip her hand tighter, grounding myself in the miracle before me. "You're in a health facility, Baby. You're safe now."

"What happened..." Her voice trails off as her right hand slowly moves toward her belly.

"My baby... where... what happened to my baby? Where is my—"

Suddenly, her breath catches.

A sharp gasp tears from her throat as panic overtakes her.

The heart monitor lets out a long, loud tone—irregular. Alarming.

"Baby, calm down—please, listen—Sophie's fine, our baby is fine—"

But she can't hear me. Her body jerks—uncontrolled. Her eyes roll back.

A seizure.

"HELP!!" I shout, panic crashing over me like a tidal wave. "Please—HELP!! Somebody!!"

Her body convulses beside me, and all I can do is hold her hand as tightly as I can, praying someone gets here in time.

"Jennifer... please..."