The doctor gave me a quick, apologetic glance before the nurses approached me with a consent form I wasn’t allowed to read.
I was prepped and wheeled away before I could even process it.
The doctor gave me a quick, apologetic glance before the anesthesia mask covered my nose and mouth. Cold gas filled my lungs. My body went numb, my thoughts blurred. They were about to cut me open, take a part of me I’d never get back. All for Jasmine. For Robert. My chest tightened as everything went dark. It felt like dying.
“Good girl,” Robert said with a smirk. “At least you’re useful for something today.”
“Robert Wood,” I said groggily.
“Yes, that’s my name, wifey,” he replied in a sarcastic tone.
“When this is over, I’m never coming back. You’re letting me go.”
“Keep running and keep being selfish, Mia. The baby is ours. Jasmine is just offering her womb, that’s all. You’re doing this for our child. Always remember that.”
Deep down, I knew once the baby arrived, Robert would cut me off without blinking. My mouth tasted sour, metallic. My head was spinning as I stared at the bandages on my side, the ache in my body a brutal reminder of what they are taking from me.
“Robert…”
Before I could finish, a loud scream echoed from the other room. It was Jasmine. She sounded like she was dying.
Robert rushed out instantly.
“Her body’s rejecting the transplant. Do something!” he shouted.
The doctor followed quickly. “She needs more tissue support. Her liver is shutting down again.”
“Then take more from Mia!” Robert barked.
“We already took the maximum safe amount. Any more could kill her,” the doctor warned, panicking.
“Do it now or we lose Jasmine,” Robert snapped.
The doctor paused, then turned back toward me.
I could barely keep my eyes open. My vision dimmed, my body cold and aching from the operation. I heard footsteps. The sound of metal clinking.
And then… nothing. It felt like death.
***
I woke up to the smell of something strong. Liver and beetroot soup, maybe. A tray sat by my side. I blinked and sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes with my hand. My head was still spinning.
“You looked so dead in your sleep,”
Robert said, setting his phone aside the moment I spoke.
“You lost a lot of strength. The doctor recommended that for you,”
he added, pointing to the tray.
I nodded quietly and reached for the spoon.
My hand shook as I tried to scoop from the bowl, and some of it spilled onto the floor.