Sprague and the others were on edge, nerves stretched to the breaking point, when Jonathan’s phone rang–the call was from Coralis.
“… Really? That’s great… All right, I’ll send someone to pick him up right away.”
As he hung up, the tension finally eased from Jonathan’s usually stern face.
“Nestor’s agreed to perform the surgery,” he announced.
Sprague and Marigold breathed simultaneous sighs of relief.
“That’s wonderful! Jonathan, you always find a way,” Sprague said, clapping him on the shoulder.
But Jonathan only frowned slightly at the praise.
Why had Nestor suddenly changed his mind?
Was it really because of him?
Jonathan doubted it.
At that moment, Niamh appeared at the end of the corridor, her figure sharpening into focus as she approached.
Marigold immediately couldn’t resist a sharp–tongued jab. “Well, look who’s still hanging around–some people really do have a thick skin. You’ve done nothing to help, yet you’re still loitering here pretending to care. What’s the act, trying to play the dutiful daughter all of a sudden?”
Niamh said nothing, her eyes searching Jonathan’s face. She’d meant to ask if Nestor had contacted him, but Jonathan spoke first.
“There’s nothing more for you to do here. You should leave,” he said, his voice cold as steel.
Niamh knew Jonathan blamed her.
me
She did bear some responsibility for what happened to Clifford; she couldn’t deny that. But everything she’d said before had been the truth. And honestly, if was being handed out, wasn’t Jonathan just as much–if not more–at faui?
She held his gaze for a long moment.
Jonathan’s eyes were like the sea on a winter night: dark and cold.
14:42
In the end, Niamh didn’t leave.
And Jonathan didn’t try to make her go again.
Three hours later, Nestor arrived at Harmony General Hospital–a world–renowned cardiac surgeon, the youngest chief of cardiology at St. Aurora Medical Center in
Coralis.
The surgery lasted a grueling six hours.
Now it was well past midnight; outside, the snow had finally stopped.
When Nestor emerged from the operating room, Jonathan, Sprague, and Marigold immediately rushed toward him.
“The operation went very well. He should wake up in a few hours…” Nestor said, lifting his gaze to look past the Thomases at Niamh.
She finally let out a breath she’d been holding and glanced back at Nestor, gratitude filling her eyes.
He offered her a gentle smile.
Sprague had arranged for Clifford to have the hospital’s best suite. Once Clifford was moved, Sprague, Marigold, and Jonathan stayed by his side.
Niamh, however, didn’t go in.
She stood alone in the hallway, her back pressed against the cold wall.
“So, what’s he to you?” came a quiet voice.
Niamh looked up to find Nestor standing before her.
It had been years since she’d last seen him.
He hadn’t changed much: his features were understated but handsome, the sort that didn’t catch your eye at first but grew more appealing the longer you looked.
As Niamh studied him, Nestor was sizing her up, too.
“You’ve changed a lot,” he finally said.
Niamh smiled but didn’t reply.
She couldn’t even remember how she used to appear in Nestor’s eyes. Compared to her old self, the woman she was now–Niamh–was almost unrecognizable. If they’d passed each other on the street, he might never have realized who she was.
– Ionathan
14:42
Chapter 299
He hadn’t recognized her either.
She’d always believed Jonathan was different from the rest. How wrong she’d been. At the sound of Niamh’s quiet sigh, Nestor shifted the conversation.
“It’s been years. Haven’t you ever thought about visiting your aunt and uncle? They still think about you, you know…”
Niamh knew exactly which aunt and uncle Nestor meant.
