Nine Hours.
Nine hours had passed.
Nine agonizing hours, but there was still no news. Nine hours and Andrew was still lying on the surgeon's table, fighting with death. Nine hours and Elio hadn't moved an inch from his position in front of the OR door.
Nine hours and the nurses had come through thrice for blood. Thrice. For ten units excluding the plasma. Ten fucking units.
And it made him numb and suffocating; each breath was a war he was trying to take without his beloved.
A dreadful silence filled the air, and the entire atmosphere was gloomy, dark, and mournful. Anyone who walked past the area didn't even dare to look at their side because of all the blood and the suffocating aura in the air.
Isabella and Nicholas had returned when the nurse ran out for blood for the first time; Isabella's shoulders were completely bandaged. And since she saw the nurse so panicked, she had fallen into a trance. Trance of fear.
