The intensive care unit had a thick door locked with a passcode. Only doctors and nurses who passed strict screening were allowed inside. No one else knew who lay beyond that door.
When it opened, a tall man stepped out, his entire body wrapped tightly in protective gear. A doctor followed by his side.
“We just have to wait for Laura’s test results now. If everything looks good, we’ll move forward with the bone marrow transplant right away.”
The doctor led the man into the changing room so he could take off the protective suit. Inside the patient’s room, every surface was sterile. The person living there was far too fragile for even the smallest risk from outside.
Franco let the medical staff help peel away the suit. His face stayed unreadable, icy, showing nothing. Only the deep flush in his bloodshot eyes hinted at just how tired he really was.
“What are the chances of survival?” Franco’s voice was scratchy and dry.
He had just seen the boy through the glass of that special incubator. One year old already, but so tiny, so delicate compared to other kids.
Still, those big, dark eyes had blinked open. When the boy realized it was him, he’d fought to roll over and sit up, giving Franco a crooked, smiling look, so much like her.
The doctor’s brow furrowed. It was the first time Franco had asked about chances. Until now, he had only ever cared about finding the right bone marrow donor, as if that alone could save the child.
And now, when it mattered most, he wanted the truth.
“I’ve explained this before,” the doctor said gently. “His body’s weak. We’ve used every advanced treatment we can to keep him going…”
“Tell me.” Franco’s hand clenched hard, knuckles going pale.
The doctor took a breath. “The survival rate after transplant isn’t very high. But without one, he’s got maybe six months.”
A long silence passed. Franco’s words came out calm and steady. “Then we go ahead with the transplant.”
A soft knock came just as those words settled into the quiet. Jay appeared at the door. He had caught part of the conversation, and a heavy look settled on his face.
He went to Franco, leaned in, and spoke in a low voice.
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