A Very Special Love

Chapter 44

Sienna Loren Monroe

From: Elora Taft

Elora: Are you free?

It was late when I received Elora's message, and the expression on her face when I saw her message, I knew that she was going through a difficult time or that something terrible had happened that she couldn't handle on her own.

Ako: yes

Ako: I'll call

The dim glow of my laptop cut through the quiet of my room, signaling Elora's message. It was late, too late for ordinary conversation. Instinctively, I bypassed text and requested a video call, my heart quickening with worry as I waited for her response.

She answered swiftly, but the sight of her tear-streaked face, her eyes reddened and swollen, instantly filled me with alarm.

"What happened?" My voice trembled with concern as I met her gaze through the screen.

Elora's hands flew to her face, muffling her sobs. "Elora, hey," I murmured, wishing desperately that I could wrap my arms around her, soothe her pain, but knowing I could only offer words.

"Elora, hey, tell me what's wrong so I can help, even from here," I urged gently, hoping my voice could be an anchor in her storm.

"S-Sienna," she choked out, her voice barely audible.

"Yes, Elora, I'm here," I reassured her softly.

"What's the matter? Please, tell me," I prompted, trying to keep my own emotions steady.

"Sie, someone died in my hands," she confessed, the weight of those words hitting us both hard. It was a patient lost during surgery, a haunting reminder of the immense responsibility we bear as doctors.

My heart ached for her. "I'm so sorry... I know how difficult this must be," I offered quietly, struggling to find words that could provide solace. "But please remember, you did everything you could. It's not your fault. You were there to help."

"She was only 15, Sienna," Elora continued, tears flowing freely. "She had so many dreams... I recommended surgery to her family, believing it was her best chance. But she didn't make it. She died under my care. She was only 15... too young."

"And what's even more heartbreaking," she added, her voice breaking, "is that before we went into the OR, she thanked me. She said she was grateful, no matter the outcome. I encouraged her to face her biggest fear, to undergo kidney surgery... and yet I failed her. I couldn't give her the chance at life she deserved."

"Elora, you guided her family through a difficult decision. They trusted you," I reassured her gently, hoping to alleviate some of her burden. "She faced surgery bravely because she believed in you. Not every patient survives such procedures, and that's something we sadly know. But please, don't blame yourself."

Her sobs were the only response, and I felt powerless to do more than listen, to be there as a comforting presence through the screen.

"Okay, Elora, listen to me," I began, guiding her through calming breaths. "Inhale," I instructed softly, watching as she followed suit.

"Exhale... Inhale again, and exhale."

"Keep breathing slowly, releasing tension with each exhale. Relax, Elora."

"Feeling better?" I asked after a while, seeing her breathing stabilize.

"Now, clear your mind of negativity. Focus on peace," I suggested, reaching for my phone to play her favorite calming music—melodies that had often eased her distress in the past.