I left them there—Olivia sobbing, Aria trembling, the sterile hall too fucking cold. My shoes echoed as I walked toward the ICU wing where the oncologist was waiting.
Every step I took felt heavier than the last.
Because the storm in Aria's eyes hadn't passed.
It was just beginning.
Dr. Liem was already waiting outside the ICU doors, tablet in hand, expression unreadable.
I hated unreadable.
"Mr. Roman," she greeted me with a curt nod, leading me toward a quiet corner by the consultation room. "Thank you for coming. I assume you've been briefed on the emergency?"
"Only the basics," I said coldly. "I need everything. Now."
She inhaled sharply. "The situation is… bad. Frankly, worse than we expected."
I said nothing. My arms crossed, heart cold.
"She had a surgery just months ago for localized gastric cancer, but what we've found now—" Her lips pressed thin as she turned the tablet toward me. Scans. Black and white images filled with shadows and sharp contrast.
