26. Addie
ADDIE
A ddie’s face was pressed against the glass of the OR observation window, her eyes locked on Sophie’s small, motionless body on the table.
The monitors still beeped, drowning out every rational thought. She was helpless, a bystander, forced to watch as her daughter’s life slipped away.
Her fists clenched and her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. Every instinct screamed at her to get in there, to do something, anything to save her child.
But she was stuck out here in the viewing room, forced to rely on Giselle. Giselle, who couldn’t understand what this meant. Who didn’t know what it was to love, to lose, to sacrifice. The words boiled up, uncontrollable, unstoppable.
“Giselle!” she shouted, her hands hitting the glass as if that would somehow get through to her. “You’re letting her die!”
The people around her shifted, some glancing her way and murmuring, but she ignored them. Her broken voice echoed through the hallway. “Do you even care?”
Madeline reached out, trying to speak, but Addie shook her off. She wasn’t in the mood for calming words, not when Sophie lay there, still and silent. And not with Giselle standing there, hands steady, face focused, so in control, as if this were any other surgery.
“Do you know what it means to lose someone you love?” Addie’s voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet. “Do you just let them slip away, too?”
She watched as Giselle’s shoulders tensed, a slight falter in her movements. Each second that passed with her daughter lying there motionless infuriated Addie. Each steady move of Giselle’s hands on Sophie’s small, fragile body twisted the pain deeper inside her.
“Addie, please, it’s best if you step away,” Madeline said.
Addie ignored her, her gaze burning into Giselle through the glass. She wanted her to understand, to feel the weight of this, to know the agony of loving someone so completely that losing them felt like losing everything.
“Do you hear me, Giselle?” Her voice was hoarse, each word scraping her throat. “This isn’t just a patient. This is my daughter . This is my everything. You wouldn’t know what that means, would you? Because you’ve never let yourself care. Not about anyone. Not even about me.”
Addie’s vision blurred, but she forced herself to keep her eyes on the scene inside the OR. She couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop shouting. There was nothing left but this, this desperate cry for someone—anyone—to understand her pain.