The surgical waiting room at Rohan General had the kind of chairs designed by someone who'd never actually sat in one for six hours straight, and Nate had tried all four models along that wall by the time the clock crossed the fourth hour without a single update.
Dr. Osei had explained it plainly before they wheeled Mikaella back. The valve defect had been slowly wearing down the surrounding tissue since childhood, decades of a heart working around damage instead of through it, and the repair meant operating within millimeters of vessels that didn't forgive a shaking hand. Most surgeons wouldn't attempt it at all. Osei had built a technique specifically for cases exactly like this one, and even she'd put the odds at something Nate didn't like repeating out loud.
"Six hours isn't unusual for this kind of repair," Julian said, sliding a second cup of coffee across the low table even though the first one sat untouched. "Osei told you that herself. Long doesn't mean bad."
