Chapter 48 - Levana
It took me twenty minutesof zipping around cars to get to the hospital. I parked haphazardly and rushed through the revolving doors of the private hospital.
At the reception, I was breathing so hard I couldn’t get a word out. The smiling receptionist took one look at me and rolled her chair backward to grab a cup of water from the dispenser behind her. “Drink,” she said, handing it to me.
“Sebastian Sinclair,” I whispered once the water wet my dry throat.
“Are you a family member?”
“I’m...” I trailed off not sure what to say.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Her smile genuine.
“Levana Singh.” My heart thumped so loudly I feared she’d hear it.
She checked her computer, typed for a second then looked up. “You’re listed as a family member.”
“I am?” I asked, surprised.
“Third floor, second door to you right. If I’m not mistaken, he’s probably still in surgery.”
“Thank you and for this also.” I held up the empty cup.
She nodded with a smile.
One minute later, I stood on the third floor, every step laden with dread as I walked toward the room the receptionist had given me. At the door, I wasn’t prepared for the vision of Saint lying on a bed, covered up to the chest with a white blanket, hooked up to several machines. If it weren’t for those, it would seem like he was sleeping, peacefully. Yet there was nothing serene about this picture. I hated it. More so, that I didn’t know. That I wasn’t there when it happened.
A female doctor turned as I cleared my throat. “Um...is he...” I didn’t know what to ask. Fisting the hem of my hoodie, I took a step closer. “Was the operation successful?”
She looked confused for a moment before she shook her head. “Give me a moment, please.”
As I watched her from the doorway, tears stung my eyes, and I started to wear circles on the floor from my pacing, trying to convince myself he was all right, that nothing would happen to him.
The doctor approached me a minute later. “We were told not to operate. He’s in a coma.”
“Coma?” I stammered. She nodded. My eyes drifted over Saint’s face, willing him to wake. “Wait. He ordered you not to operate. Surely, only a family member can do that.” I was pulling at strings because I didn’t know any better.
“Yes,” she replied then sighed. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing more we can do for him.” Her solemn features adding a heaviness to her words steeped my heart in a finality I wasn’t ready to accept.
“No,” I cried. “You’re wrong.” Pushing past her, I neared Saint’s bed and grabbed his shoulders. “You can’t...” my sobs choked my words. “Please, Saint, stay with me.” I shook his shoulders hard, my cries beseeching him not to die on me. “Please...” I begged. “Stay with me.” I dropped my brow to his shoulder, letting my tears bless his soul, hoping it would hear my cries.
“I’m sorry, my dear, that won’t help.”
