He looked directly into Metilda's eyes. "Your son is going to die."

"MARK!" Dr. Lee got up from his chair. "Where are your bedside manners? That is no way to talk to a patient."

Mark didn't seem fazed. His gaze was still focused on Metilda. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it. The pressure that tumor is creating is unbelievable. If we don't operate, he will die."

Metilda looked at Dr. Lee and then at him. "But he said it's impossible to operate-"

"It's not impossible. It's just that the chances of your son's surviving the operation are really low."

Dr. Lee seemed to be getting more furious by the second. "We've already had this discussion Mark. You're not taking the chances. You know this operation won't be successful."

"Now look who has forgotten their bedside manners." Mark muttered under his breath.

Metilda felt her head spin. This wasn't making any sense. There was a deep cliff either way.

She felt a cold hand on her shoulder. Mark's grey eyes were determined. "I can help. In fifteen days' time, I will be ready to operate on your son. The choice is yours. You either accept fate as it is or fight it."

Dr. Lee stared hard at Mark. "You will regret this. This will tarnish your reputation" Those were his last words before he exited the room.

"I want to fight."

He smiled at her, a calm smile. It somehow managed to make her feel a-lot stronger and hopeful.

She gave his hand a firm shake. "Thank you Doctor."

He looked at Louis and tightened his hold on her hand. "It's too early for that."

❁❁❁

Metilda felt the sunlight burning through every pore of her skin as she walked alongside her new friend, Mark. He was a neurosurgeon in the children's ward of St. Mary Hospital. His height rounded off close to Metilda's.

Over the past week while coming for Louis's checkup, they had grown close enough to share the burdens of their hearts. Mark was a good listener and an excellent observer. Metilda had told him about her expedition to make John the kind of father Louis always wanted.

Today, Metilda had left Louis with John. She thought that John deserved some lone time with his son. Coincidentally, Mark had messaged her around the same time, saying that he was off for dinner and would love it if she could accompany him.

Gently, Mark placed a hand on Metilda's back. "Does it still hurt?"

She closed her eyes and released a pained breath. They stood outside the Thai restaurant near Brooklyn lane. "It doesn't matter."

"It does. You're showing all signs for depression. Back ache, loss of appetite, weight loss, and you're constantly tired."

"I've been taking anti-depressants and pain killers."

Mark let his hand drop to the side. His eyes watched the honey-hued sun dip below the horizon. The traffic around them buzzed with excitement as headlights and streetlights became livelier.

"If I may ask, you've been this way for how long?"

Metilda wasn't interested in talking about this. She rubbed her hands together. "For too long."

"You know life doesn't stop because you do."

"I know."

"My friend, she's a pretty good psychiatrist. You could check her out."

Metilda shook her head. "I will after Louis's operation. Right now, my mind won't focus on anything else."

"Understandable."

Mark and Metilda walked in silence for few minutes. Metilda's fingertips brushed against Mark long fingers. She quickly retracted her hand. Mark noticed this and placed a polite distance between their bodies.

When they approached Metilda's car in the parking lot, Mark took both her hands in his, unable to hold it in any longer.

"I will give my everything to save him." Metilda noticed how strong his grip was and how fiery his eyes looked when he said that. "But if I'm unable to." His hold on her hands got firmer. "I won't expect you to forgive me."

It was a natural reaction as Metilda wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Because for a mother, nothing meant more than someone trying to save her child.

❁❁❁

[Present]

Chaos. Noise. Lights. That was the situation when little Louis of five was brought to the ER. Dr. Mark Bortsov took one look at Louis's face and knew that he would have to operate immediately. He quickly barked orders to the staff.

"Put him on oxygen. Now!"

His grey eyes met Metilda's teary red ones. He held his hand up in a reassuring gesture and mouthed the words it'll be alright.

Metilda collapsed on the metal chairs outside the ER. Numb and frightened. She held her hands together in a prayer.

Seconds later, a dazed John returned from the reception.

"They said... something about a tumor and operation." One look at Metilda's somewhat calm yet tensed face. He knew that she had known all along. "What's going on?"

She opened her eyes. Her lips frozen mid-way through the prayer.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Note: I really like Mark. <3. I hope didn't keep you'all waiting too much. I don't have much to say this time around. Just hold on.

The 12th KissOpowieści tętniące życiem. Odkryj je teraz