The kind of cold that seeped into your bones and made everything feel more real than you wanted it to.
I checked in at the front desk, signed the consent forms, and followed the nurse back to the pre-op area.
She handed me a hospital gown and a pair of non-slip socks.
“Change into this,” she said. “Everything off, including underwear. You can leave your socks on if you want.”
I nodded.
When she left, I stood there for a long moment, staring at the gown in my hands.
This is it.
I changed quickly, folded my clothes into a neat pile, and sat on the edge of the bed.
My hands were shaking.
The nurse came back with an IV kit.
“Just a little stick,” she said, sliding the needle into the back of my hand.
I didn’t flinch.
I’d gotten used to needles over the past two weeks.
“Dr. Beaumont will be in shortly to go over the procedure,” the nurse said. “Try to relax.”
She left.
I sat there alone, the IV tubing taped to my hand, the gown too thin, the room too cold.
And then I heard voices in the hallway.
Dr. Beaumont’s voice.
And another voice I recognized immediately.
Amai.
My heart kicked hard in my chest.
The nurse pulled back the curtain.
“Alright, sweetie. Let’s get you to the procedure room.”
I stood, my legs unsteady, and followed her down the hallway.
And that’s when I saw him.
Amai.
Sitting in the waiting room.
Dark suit. Perfectly pressed. Hands folded in his lap.
But his eyes tracked me the moment I stepped into the hallway.
We didn’t speak.
