Epilogue 3

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Being a surgeon was hard.

You always had to have steady hands and an even steadier mind. You have to know what you're doing. There's nothing like thinking outside the box—no—because that would get somebody killed.

But being a neurosurgeon was even harder.

It's a bit ironic that someone whose brain was more like swiss-cheese than anything, was now tinkering with someone else's brain. But that's precisely the reason why I had to work ten times harder than anyone else here. I needed to prove that my accident didn't affect my capacity to be more than just a bodyguard.

The nurse wiped off the sweat on my forehead before I went out of the operating room and into the hallway. Someone, who I assumed to be the patient's mother walked over to me with hopeful eyes, pleading with me to tell her that everything was going to be okay.

"Are you his mother?," I asked, removing my gloves.

"Yes, yes I am. Is he okay? Please, please tell me my son's okay," she cried out. Her hands were both clasped together, as if in prayer.

"The surgery was a success. We removed the tumor in his brain without complications. He's going to be okay now."

Cheers erupted from the people in the hallway. The mother hugged me, followed by other people who I presumed were more of the patient's family. After a few more cheers and hugs, I told the nurse to assist her if she needed any more help. She thanked me one last time before I could walk towards my office.

My body was already starting to crumble under me. The surgery took four hours and, even before that, I only slept a measly 2 hours. I was practically awake for 22 hours already and it took all my strength not to collapse on the floor.

A voice called out to me as I opened the door. "Dr. Davids," I called out, "come in."

We entered the room and I headed straight for my chair. My eyes were heavy and bloodshot. Along with it, my body was ready for some much needed sleep.

"Well you look horrible."

I groaned and opened my eyes. She sat across the desk from me with worry on her face. I remembered the way she looked at me when she diagnosed me with retrograde amnesia. She was professional about it but I knew she was also sorry for me. I asked for her help so I could find a job at a hospital here in LA and she practically put her job on the line for me. So no matter how tired I was or no matter how beaten my body was to the point of exhaustion, I needed to pull myself together and stand by her.

"No, no. Don't worry, I'm just a bit tired, that's all."

"Sorry about this. You're the only one I trust to handle Dr. Castor's cases while he's gone."

"I understand. I'm okay."

She squinted her eyes at me but I just showed her a smile. I saw the resignation on her face before she stood up. "Y/N, I really admire your strength. But sometimes, it's okay to say 'no'. It's okay to say you can't do it. It's okay to show weakness."

She sighed when I didn't answer her. "Someone's here to see you," she said. "I'll call them in."

The moment she left the room, I heard her call someone from the hallway. After a few seconds, two children suddenly ran towards me.

"Daddy!" they echoed.

"Hey guys!" My body automatically woke up and the heaviness of my body was gone at the sound of their voice. I knelt down and met their hugs halfway, kissing both their cheeks. They utter a collective 'eww' before they simultaneously called for my attention.

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