THE SHOCKING WISH

Two days later!


The hours have gone by so fast, and now it is that time—the turning point where my father is due for the surgery. That critical moment holds our future. After this, our lives are not going to be the same ever again, because I am going to dedicate every second of my entire life to taking care of him, showing him how much I am proud of him, and cherishing every single moment of our days together.

We are going to have the thrill of life from now on and savor every kick of it from now on. I will show nothing to him from now on other than gratitude, love, care, and affection. Not holding back anything, because I know he is also looking forward to planning the same. Lief has given us a second chance, and we are not going to waste it with unnecessary fights and arguments like before. On the contrary, we are going to amicably agree to disagree, and vice versa.

That aside, for now. We are at the hospital. Oh well, I am at the hospital where my father is supposed to undergo the transplant. I am alone, because, like I have always said, I am the only one who cares about him and not those witches. They didn't move a muscle all that time, and I was running up and down preparing my father's things to move him to the hospital. They were still comfortably parked on the couches and basking in the glee of the castle, which they did not merit when I and the doctors helped my father out. They never said a word. Never asked a word. Honestly, I am tempted to believe that I am living with real witches here. I mean, who on earth does that? Who in this entire human realm believes like they do?


Pacing back and forth has been my thing ever since my father was taken into that room. Anxiety and fear are creeping into me in savage streams, especially because I have no one by my side to calm me down or at least distract me for a while. I am freaking out since this has taken a bit longer than Dr. Lemuel explained. Why are the doctors taking so long in there? They said they were just going to run a few checkups before he goes to the theater, but why are they taking forever? Pardon my terrors, because Lemuel ascertained to me that there is absolutely nothing to worry about, but I can't help it. No one would remain calm in this particular situation, right?

I am exhausted from pacing back and forth in this corridor. I have mentally howled numerous pleas to the heavens to make this a success. I have made exertions to make myself loosen up on this couch, but it is damn pricking my arse. I spring to my feet again with my pounding heart in my chest. Its echoes are boisterous enough in this screaming silence.


Heck, why didn't the witches come with me here? I would prefer bickering with them over nothing other than this freaking anxiety.

"Ellie?"

I take a one-eighty-degree u-turn to the face of Dr. Lemuel. I was about to thrust a smile, but I sucked it back the minute my eyes met his dull face. I have never seen his face this dull in the few days that I have known him. He was always cheerful, even when he was solacing me, and that is why I was so sure that this would be over soon. But this look on his face...

"Lemuel? Why? What is wrong? Is Papa okay? Can we take him to the theatre now?" I rant non-stop. It is my apprehensions and fears conversing, and I don't think I would have ceased ranting if only Lemuel hadn't held my shoulders.

"Ellie, your...your...father...is fine."

He is? Then why is he hesitating in the middle of words to amass more courage to speak to me like this, huh? He should be cheerful and sure, like before. Why this?

"Then why? Why do you sound like something is wrong, Lemuel? Tell me the truth. Is my father really okay? Can I see him? Right now?" I rant again.

"Calm down, Ellie!" He says this, soothing my shoulders.

I slip from his grip, cold chills squinting under my skin. "Calm down? I need to know what is happening, Lemuel!" I speak.

"Your father will be taken to the theater in an hour. But before then, he..."

"A what?"

An hour? Why take so much time when time is what we don't have? He said this needed to be done quickly, right? Why the hell is he now prolonging it?

"I had to move it a bit further," I frown at him, and he continued explaining, 'Because your father asked to speak with you and Damian first. He has pleaded with me to do this one last favor for him."

I am thunderstruck!

What?

'Then tell my father that there is no time. Make him understand that he needs that operation ASAP. He can then speak to whoever that he wants after." I grab his hands, pleading, 'Lemuel, make Father see why this can't be delayed. Make him understand that."

'I have tried Ellie," he cuts me off defeatedly. 'The reason why I took so long in there was because I was trying to explain to Mr. Riccaford how important this urgency for the transplant is. But he insisted. And he said he is not going to the theater until he speaks to both you and Damian."

This old man is really stubborn, huh? But, Damian? What does my father want to discuss about with Damian and I? And what is so serious that can't wait until the surgery is over? Why does it have to be right now? This doesn't sound good at all. Or am I paranoid? Damian? Really?

"What is that that is more important than his own life? I mean, why is he risking his life like this?" I think out loud.