When Love Comes Late

might signify something positive.

Halfway through the waiting, Flossie had to exit to attend a work call.

Miley also left, ostensibly to purchase daily essentials for Stella, saying she would need them upon awakening.

Alone in the corridor, Matthew sat on a bench, his eyes unflinchingly fixed on the sealed operating room door.

Time crawled by, each minute elongating into an unbearable eternity.

Finally, the operating room doors swung open.

Farris appeared, visibly drained.

“The surgery was a success.

”

A tangible sigh of relief escaped Matthew’s lips.

“When will Stella regain consciousness?”

“While she’s stabilized, Stella lost a significant amount of blood.

We’ll need to closely monitor her wake-up timing,” Farris informed him.

Matthew nodded, his demeanor weighed down by lingering concern.

“May I go in to see her?”

Only by witnessing Stella’s well-being firsthand could he truly breathe easy.

“You may, but limit your time.

She needs her rest,” Farris advised before walking away.

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After Stella was moved to the intensive care unit, Matthew donned sterile attire and entered the room.

She lay there, her face already cleansed of any blood, appearing unnaturally pale and lifeless.

“Stella…” Matthew leaned in, his voice parched and shaky, whispering softly into her ear.

She remained motionless, offering no response.

Taking her hand gently into his own, he lent her a semblance of vitality.

Matthew gently held her hand, offering her a glimmer of strength.

“You have to wake up soon.

You vowed that we’d confront life’s challenges together.

You can’t break that promise.

You can’t abandon me now.

So many people love you.

Don’t make us worry, okay?”

Farris’ words about Stella’s diminished will to live flashed through his mind, stabbing his heart with pain so acute it left him breathless.

It was an agony so suffocating, it engulfed every fiber of his being.