Rainbows after Hurricane

12. |p r e s e n t|

>>c h a p t e r  t w e l v e<<

|p r e s e n t|

|

Zach paced relentlessly outside the operating theater, his footsteps a steady rhythm against the polished floor. The image of Dianna being wheeled inside, an oxygen mask strapped over her pale face, replayed in his mind like a tormenting loop. His thumb and forefinger worked anxiously, a habit he'd picked up as a kid whenever fear or nerves overtook him. Right now, it was both, and the combination was suffocating.

"Could you sit down already? You're making me dizzy," Jason muttered from his seat, slouched but alert, his eyes fixed on Zach.

"Then stop looking at me," Zach bit out, his voice sharp. He kept pacing, as if his movement could somehow chase away the gnawing dread settling in his chest.

"Not exactly easy when you're stomping around right in front of me," Jason shot back, his tone equally biting.

Zach froze mid-step, turning to glare at him with a look that could pierce through steel. His lips parted, a retort ready to burst forth, but Meredith's voice sliced through the brewing argument.

"Enough! Both of you!" she snapped, stepping forward with an authority that silenced them. Her arms were crossed tightly, her expression a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. "We're in a hospital, and Dianna's in there fighting for her life. Stop bickering like children. We're all worried, so maybe try supporting each other instead of tearing each other down."

The weight of her words lingered in the air, and Zach let out a sharp breath, his fists clenching as he resumed pacing—this time in silence.

JJason opened his mouth to argue but quickly closed it when Meredith's sharp glare sliced through him like a warning shot. Defeated, he slumped back into his chair, muttering under his breath, while Meredith leaned against her seat with a weary sigh, closing her eyes in an attempt to find some semblance of peace.

Zach's pacing, however, remained relentless. Back and forth, like a pendulum of guilt and anxiety, his mind replayed every moment leading up to this nightmare. He couldn't stop the flood of bitter thoughts: If I'd just waited. If I'd been more patient, more careful. The weight of his regret pressed down on him, suffocating.

Instead of lying on a hospital bed surrounded by sterile walls and masked strangers, Dianna could have been home, cozy and safe, laughing at one of her favorite movies. She'd probably have been gushing over Channing Tatum in The Vow, teasing Zach for not appreciating a good romance. But no—because of his rash decision, she was here, fighting for her life.

His fists clenched at his sides as his thoughts spiraled. He didn't even know the extent of her injuries. What if they were worse than he feared? What if she didn't recover? Every unanswered question gnawed at him, and the doctors' assurances felt like meaningless noise in the face of his panic.

Still, he couldn't blame them. Despite the hurricane raging outside, these medical professionals remained at their posts, working tirelessly to save lives. They could have gone home to their own families, sought shelter, yet they chose to stay and tend to strangers in need.

Zach envied their calm, their ability to function under immense pressure. He admired their resilience, though it only deepened his frustration with himself. If he had just a fraction of their resolve, none of this would have happened. Dianna wouldn't be here, and he wouldn't be left pacing the hospital floor, drowning in guilt and helplessness.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Zach exhaled a long, weary sigh, the tension of the night crushing down on him like a tidal wave. His emotions churned uncontrollably, anger and guilt vying for dominance. "Zach?"