Mom gripped her glass so tightly her knuckles went white.
"Samantha," she said, low and tight. "Max's family is struggling. They couldn't wait. You're different. Your father and I are doctors. We won't let anything happen to you."
Cold numbness spread through my chest, then scorching rage. Tears blurred my vision.
"I get it now." I choked out. "Because I'm a doctor's daughter, I don't even qualify for equal treatment? Should I become an orphan? Is that the only way through the back door?"
——
I spun to leave, but Dad caught my arm.
"Samantha, watch your tone! Do you have any idea how hard your mother worked for that boy? Without that heart, he won't survive the year!"
I stared at him, hollowed out.
My life means nothing to them.
They weren't worried about saving a life—they were terrified a "poor student" would die in their department and tarnish the hospital's reputation.
"You're making a scene," Mom hissed, grabbing my other arm. "We'll discuss this at home."
Colleagues swarmed us, forcing me back into my chair with hushed platitudes and firm hands.
Two years of fear, suppression, and waiting detonated inside me.
I shook them off, breath ragged. I pointed a trembling finger at my mother.