Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he waited outside the operation room, his heart pounding with fear and dread. Each tick of the clock echoed like a thunderclap in his mind, intensifying the anxiety that coiled tightly in his chest. He felt as if he were trapped in a nightmare, the reality of the situation sinking in slowly and painfully.
Finally, the door swung open, and the doctor emerged, his expression grave. The boy's heart sank as he met the doctor's eyes.
"Sir, we need to perform an urgent surgery," the doctor began hesitantly. "Your wife... she has cancer. It's critical, and we need to act now."
The words hit him like a sledgehammer. His world spun as he struggled to process what he had just heard. His mind refused to accept it. "No... this is not possible," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.
His voice grew louder, more desperate. "Save her, dammit! Do whatever it takes, but save her!" Anger flared within him, his fists clenching as he fought to keep himself together. The fear of losing her consumed him, fueling a rage that boiled beneath the surface.
The doctor, recognizing the intensity of his emotions, nodded quickly and retreated back into the operation room, determined to do everything in his power to save her life.
The boy slumped into a chair, his mind reeling from the doctor's words. The cold, sterile environment of the hospital did nothing to ease the storm brewing inside him. He buried his face in his hands, struggling to maintain control over the overwhelming emotions threatening to consume him.
Moments later, Tiger approached him cautiously, sensing the tension in the air. "Sir," Tiger said softly, prompting the boy to lift his head and meet his gaze. In Tiger's hand was a small, familiar object—a diary.
"This was in the room where you and Ma'am stayed," Tiger explained, holding out the diary to him. "I thought you might want it."
The boy stared at the diary for a moment, his heart tightening. Slowly, he reached out and took it from Tiger's hands, his fingers brushing against the worn cover. He recognized it immediately—it was her diary, the one she always kept close, filled with her deepest thoughts and emotions.
Holding the diary felt like grasping a piece of her, and he clutched it tightly, feeling a mix of pain and longing. He nodded silently to Tiger, his voice caught in his throat, struggling to keep his composure. Tiger gave him a respectful nod before stepping back, leaving the boy alone with the diary, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on his shoulders.
With trembling hands, he opened the diary, the familiar scent of its worn pages bringing a rush of memories. As he turned to the first page, his eyes were drawn to the neat handwriting that filled the lines. It was her handwriting, soft and elegant, just like she was. He began to read, his heart heavy with a mix of emotions.
The words on the page told the story of their life together—each entry a fragment of their journey, from their first meeting to the countless moments that had woven their lives into one. She had captured everything, every emotion, every smile, every tear. As he read, he could almost hear her voice narrating their story, feel her presence beside him.
The memories flooded back, some sweet, some painful, but all cherished. It was as if she had poured her heart onto these pages, a testament to the love they shared and the life they had built together. Each word reminded him of how deeply she loved him and how much she meant to him.
As he continued reading, tears welled up in his eyes, blurring the words on the page. This diary wasn't just a collection of memories; it was a reflection of their souls, intertwined in a way that nothing could ever separate.
His eyes scanned the next entry, and he was transported back to a rainy night etched in both their memories.
The rain poured down in relentless sheets, drenching the city in a cold, unforgiving darkness. A young girl stood on the side of a busy road, desperately trying to stop a car, her voice lost in the roar of the storm. She shouted for help, her arms flailing, but the passing cars sped by, their drivers more concerned with reaching their destinations than offering aid.
Suddenly, a car came to a screeching halt just inches from where the girl stood, its headlights blinding her as she instinctively raised a hand to shield her eyes. The driver quickly stepped out, concern etched on his face. The girl, relieved yet frantic, grabbed the driver's hand and pleaded, "Please, my brother is injured! We need to get him to the hospital—it's nearby!"
The driver followed her gaze to the side of the road, where a boy, around 18 years old, lay unconscious on the wet pavement. The driver's heart skipped a beat as he felt an inexplicable connection to the girl holding his hand, something deep and familiar. Without hesitation, he nodded. "I'm headed that way too," he said, moving quickly to help her lift the boy into the back seat of the car.
As they drove through the torrential rain, the girl leaned over her brother, gently shaking him. "Wake up, please wake up," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear. "Don't make me cry, please."
Her words, filled with desperation and love, echoed in the car, cutting through the sound of the rain pounding against the windows. The driver, though focused on the road, couldn't help but glance at the rearview mirror, watching the girl as she fought to keep her composure, her tears mixing with the rainwater that still clung to her face.