Chapter 172: Found something

Desmond’s chest tightened painfully. He shook his head.

“No—no, she was in a highway accident. The one that just happened. Check again.”

The nurse's eyes widened. Pity flickered in her eyes before she nodded and searched again, this time pulling up the accident records.

She found something. But instead of answering immediately, she looked up at him.

“What is your relationship to the patient?” she asked. Their hospital was a private hospital that took patient care and safety to the highest regard. One cannot see a patient without confirming their identity first.

But Desmond didn’t have the patience for it.

His hands shook as he reached into his pocket, pulling out his ID and slapped it ok the counter. The counter shook. The noise brought the nurse more focused, and he jumped back. She was going to call security, but she decided to check his identity first.

“I’m her boyfriend,” he said. The words came out almost painfully. And for a moment, they hung in the air like something more than just an answer.

The nurse picked up the ID. Her eyes scanned it, and she caught the name and picture on the card. She looked up at the car and her eyes widened.

Recognition hit her instantly.

The shift in her expression was immediate. her posture straightening, her tone becoming more careful.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said quickly, she took him more seriously now. “She was brought in under emergency intake. She’s currently in surgery.”

Desmond’s breath caught.

“Surgery…?” he repeated.

“Yes, Operation room three. You can wait outside.” the nurse pointed him in the right direction. She even wanted to take him there but He didn’t wait for anything else.

He turned and moved immediately, his steps quick, uneven, like his body was barely keeping up with his thoughts.

It didn't take long before Desmond found the hallway that led to the operating room three. The hallway felt too long and too quiet.

He moved as fast as he could but it felt like he want going anywhere. Like a treadmill. Every second stretched, heavy and suffocating.

When he reached the operating room, the door was shut tight. A red light glowed above it.

He stopped just a few feet away. And for the first time since he started moving he didn't know what to do with his neck. He could only stand and watch the door.

And waited.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

Time lost its meaning.

At some point, he started pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth again. Hands behind his back, Hand on his chin. His hands were dragging through his hair, pulling at it slightly, his thoughts spiraling uncontrollably.

Waiting was the hardest thing. He fell into the self-blaming hole again.

“This is my fault,” he muttered under his breath. “I should’ve known. I should’ve—”

He growled and slammed his fist into the wall, hard. The sound echoed down the hallway, sharp and sudden.

Pain shot through his knuckles but he didn't care. To him the pain was nothing. Not as painful as the one he felt in his chest. He wanted to drown that pain, and so he pulled back and swung again.

And again.

Like if he punished himself enough, something would change. Something would undo what had already been done. His breathing grew heavier, more uneven.

The hospital had gotten a whiff of who was in the hospital. A nurse who was purposely passing by saw this scene. She ran forward.

“Sir don't do that,” she yelled out and reached out to touch him but he turned his head and pushed her away.

When the nurse raised her head and looked at him… really looked at him. She gasped.

This wasn’t what the Desmond people knew.

His shirt wrinkled, his sleeves rolled up carelessly, and his entire appearance was devastating.

This wasn’t the man who controlled rooms, who stayed calm under pressure, who always had a plan. This wasn't the man she saw on the news, always upright, always impeccable.

This was just a man. A scared, helpless, man.

“Get lost,” he said through gritted teeth before turning around.

Klaus arrived at some point, carrying food. He wasn't surprised when he saw Desmond’s stay. He opened and closed his mouth but no words came out. What was he supposed to say?

They didn't even know what the situation was.

“She's going to be okay,” Klaus said quietly. Then he added. “She's a strong woman. I'm sure she'll be fine.”

Desmond didn't answer. Didn't raise his head. It was like his words went in Ans ear and went out the other.

Klaus didn't take this to heart. He just placed the food nearby quietly.

“Sir… you should eat something,” he said gently. Desmond hadn't eaten the whole day.

Desmond didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at it at the food. His eyes remained fixed on the door. He didn't want to miss it opening.

Klaus sighed softly.

He knew better than to push. After a while, he stepped back.

“Call me if anything changes,” he added before leaving.

Desmond didn’t hear him.

Or maybe he did. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that door.

Hours passed.

It was slow, cruel, and unforgiving. The door had opened a few times, each time it was a nurse hurrying off to get something or another doctor hurrying in.

The hallway lights dimmed slightly as time went on, and night fell. Finally, the door opened.

Desmond jumped to his feet. His jacket had been discarded to the side and his hair had been packed in a bun again.

A doctor stepped out. His shoulders slightly slumped. His expression was unreadable at first. The doctor stretched, removed his glove, twisted his stiff neck and then sighed.

Then…he shook his head.

Desmond froze.

He closed the distance in seconds, grabbing the doctor by the collar before he could even fully register what was happening.

“What do you mean?” Desmond demanded, his voice raw, bouncing off the walls, breaking the silence

“What do you mean?” he repeated.

Why did he shake his head?