The anesthesia began fading long before the surgery was over.
At first, I thought I was dreaming.
Everything around me felt distant and heavy, like I was floating underwater while the world continued somewhere far above. I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t move my hands. Even breathing felt borrowed, controlled by the machines surrounding me.
Then I heard her voice.
“If something goes wrong,” Vanessa whispered, smooth and cold, “don’t call her lawyer. Call me first.”
The words cut through the haze instantly.
Metal instruments clinked softly nearby. Machines beeped in steady rhythms. My body lay helpless beneath surgical lights while my mind clawed upward through the darkness.
My son was standing beside her.
I knew it because I recognized the faint scrape of Daniel’s shoes against the floor. He was close enough to hear every word.