"You're lying! What about Lara? She followed me all the way to the university hospital. There's no way she didn't know my mom has brain cancer, that the tumor could rupture at any moment under strong stimulation and kill her instantly. Aren't they basically murderers?!"
"Sophie, stop these groundless accusations. Things aren't as simple as you think!" Ned said sternly.
Sophie closed her eyes. A sudden wave of sorrow washed over her. The man she had trusted completely wasn't standing by her side at all. He kept defending his mother, kept defending his childhood family friend, completely disregarding her own mother who was hanging between life and death…
She opened her eyes again and stared fixedly at her mother inside the ICU. Then, all of a sudden, she realized—her mother had already woken up. Sarah's frail eyes were open just a slit, looking at her with worry… and at him.
Sophie shot to her feet and threw herself against the glass wall in front of the ICU, tears of joy streaming down her face. She cried out happily, "Mom! Mom! You're finally awake! You scared me to death! I know I was wrong, I know I was wrong, waaah—"
Ned was startled by her sudden movement. He looked up and saw that Sophie's mother had indeed woken up. He gently patted Sophie's back. "I'll go to the office to find Dr. William first and tell them the good news."
According to the doctors' earlier prediction, Sarah wouldn't wake up until around 7 p.m. at the earliest. But it was only 4:30 in the afternoon now—she had woken up far ahead of schedule. This was a strong sign that the surgery had been highly successful. The final outcome would depend on whether the patient experienced any motor or language impairments after the operation.
From the way she was looking at Sophie so earnestly, severe memory disorders seemed unlikely. That, at least, was a blessing amid the misfortune.
Inside the ICU, the head nurse and Dr. William, both dressed in full sterile protective gear, began a comprehensive examination of Sarah. Besides the routine checks, they performed targeted tests on her hands, legs, and feet, asked questions to assess memory, and conducted thorough language and speech evaluations.
Sophie and the other three stood anxiously outside the ICU, staring inside. This time, the nurses hadn't drawn the curtains, so everything was clearly visible. More than an hour later, Dr. William finally gathered them in a small conference room to deliver the detailed results.
The good news: Sarah's motor functions were preserved, and there was no sign of memory impairment.
The bad news: she had almost completely lost her ability to speak, and her vision would gradually deteriorate. Conservatively, she would be completely blind in about two years. Until then, her eyesight would grow progressively blurrier.
Overall, the surgery was considered successful; the patient's life had been saved.
Yet compared to the optimal surgical plan they had originally hoped for, the outcome carried deep regrets. Under the best-case scenario, her eyes should not have been affected at all. But the violent impact to her brain just before she fainted had caused the tumor to compress the optic nerve.
After hearing the doctor's words, everyone felt as if a huge stone had been placed on their hearts—heavy and suffocating.
"What about Sarah's life expectancy?" Jonathan asked delicately.
Sophie also lifted her head. A few days earlier, when they had discussed the surgical options with Dr. William, she had asked the same question and been told: "With proper care and no further stimulation, the patient could live more than fifteen years."
Dr. William rubbed his hands together, looked at the four anxious faces before him, then said firmly, "Four to six years—on the condition that she experiences absolutely no further stimulation. Otherwise…" He trailed off.
"Otherwise what? Please tell us the truth," Ned said. He was the calmest person in the room. Seeing Sophie already crying her eyes out and his father's face etched with grief, he pressed on.
"Well… if something as severe as yesterday afternoon's incident were to happen again, it would be devastating for the patient," Dr. William said as gently as he could.
"So…" Ned asked directly.
"So, if she faints again, her life could end right then and there." It was a resolute answer. Even Ned felt a chill run down his spine.
He turned to look at his father. Jonathan met his gaze at the same moment. Without a word, the two men nodded slightly to each other, a silent agreement forming—as if they had both made up their minds.
"Next, the patient needs sleep and rest. The nurse just administered a sedative, so she'll likely remain asleep until tomorrow morning. Family members may go home for now," Dr. William said in his usual formal, clinical tone.
Sophie was shaking with sobs, but she still managed to ask, "Doctor, when can my mom leave the ICU?"
"As long as her condition stabilizes, she should be transferred to a regular ward quite soon. Please be patient." He gave everyone in the room a polite nod and quickly left the conference room.
Silence fell over the small space. Even Archibald, normally the most carefree of the bunch, wore a grave expression.
Jonathan stepped forward, gently pulling Sophie into his arms. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry to you and to your mother," he said, his voice thick with pain.
Ned rested a comforting hand on his father's back, offering silent support.
"My poor girl," Jonathan continued, gripping Sophie's shoulders as he looked into her eyes. "I'll personally oversee every step of your mother's follow-up treatment. Don't worry about a thing. You and your mom just need to stay strong and keep your spirits up. The road ahead is long, and you have to believe medicine can still work miracles."
"If there's ever anything I can do, don't hesitate to ask. I've got all the time in the world—way more than Ned here," Archibald chimed in, slipping back into his usual flippant tone.
"Thank you… thank you all so much," Sophie said, struggling to pull herself together. "If it weren't for you, Mom's illness might have dragged on until it was too late—until there was no hope at all…" She took a shaky breath. "I don't want to blame anyone anymore. I just hope they never come near us again." Her gaze fixed firmly on Ned and Jonathan.
The two men exchanged a long look, then spoke in unison, their promise resolute:
"We'll do everything in our power to make sure they never disturb you and your mother again."