"We’ve delayed too long. His intestines have started to rot—we need to remove the damaged sections. Even if we repair his limbs, he might never regain full function. He’ll likely be wheelchair-bound for life. The situation is critical—we've already missed the optimal window for treatment. The success rate of the surgery is only fifty percent."
Clara’s voice trembled with disbelief. "No... How could this happen? You must save my brother, no matter what it takes!"
She never let go of my hand, sobbing as she whispered, "Jayce, you have to hold on. I can’t lose you."
Wyatt’s voice was hoarse with emotion as he said, "Jayce, we promised each other—we’d be each other’s best men, standing together on our wedding days. I won’t allow you to leave me behind."
I closed my eyes, feeling the barren emptiness in my chest.
—
When I woke up, I was back in my hospital room.
Aside from my slightly less-injured left hand, my entire body was wrapped in bandages.
Wyatt sat beside the bed. The moment he saw me awake, his face lit up in relief. "Jayce! You’re finally awake! Do you feel any pain? Are you hungry? Do you want some water?"
His usual concern was laced with careful, uneasy guilt.