Silent Dreams Never Die — Author: John Miller 374
Scarlett considered the question seriously for a moment. She turned her gaze from Damian back to Nolan. “I’d like to stay,” she said. “Make sure he’s alright.”
Nolan’s brow creased slightly. “His family will be here soon. Besides, the hospital staff is right outside. He fainted from donating blood and the stress; it’s not a critical condition.”
Scarlett understood his logic, yet a quiet insistence held her firm. “I know,” she replied. “But he was there for me before.”
Recognizing her resolve, Nolan simply nodded. “Then I’ll stay with you.”
Scarlett frowned, looking at him with gentle concern. “Nolan, it’s very late. You should go home and get some rest.”
“I’m not leaving,” he stated, his voice soft but unwavering. “I’d rather be here, knowing you’re okay.”
She tried to persuade him a few more times, but he remained steadfast. Eventually, she sighed and let the matter drop, accepting his silent companionship.
As they kept vigil, Nolan’s phone buzzed insistently in his pocket.
He excused himself, stood up, and walked over to the window to take the call.
Scarlett couldn’t hear the details from the other end, but she caught the low, strained tone of Nolan’s voice. “I can’t come in right now. You’ll have to find someone else to cover it.”
It was rare to hear Nolan sound so abrupt, almost sharp.
He ended the call, his expression tightening as he stared at his phone for a second. When he turned back, he found Scarlett watching him.
Their eyes met, and Nolan quickly smoothed his features into a calmer, more familiar smile.
Scarlett offered a small smile in return, then asked quietly, “Something urgent at the hospital?”
Nolan saw no point in hiding it. “They need me for an emergency craniotomy.”
Her expression grew more concerned. “Shouldn’t you go, then?”
If they were calling Nolan specifically, it meant the case was complex, beyond the scope of the surgeon on duty. If there had been any other choice, they wouldn’t have phoned him.
Nolan slipped his phone back into his pocket but said nothing, his silence heavy with internal
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Scarlett could guess his struggle. He was staying out of worry for her, yet a part of him knew a patient needed his skills. The pull of duty was clearly warring with his personal feelings.
Afraid the weight of a potential regret would haunt him, she spoke gently but firmly, “Nolan, you really should go.”
She knew his character. If a life was lost because he chose to stay, that burden would linger with him forever.
Even without her saying it, Nolan knew he would have to leave. His professionalism and conscience wouldn’t allow otherwise. Still, his worry for her persisted.
“Come with me, then,” he suggested, a hopeful note entering his voice. “Be my assistant for the procedure.”
Scarlett gave a faint, apologetic shake of her head. “I can’t. You go ahead. Don’t let me delay the surgery.”
Seeing she wouldn’t be moved, Nolan’s shoulders dropped slightly in disappointment. “I’ll come back as soon as it’s over,” he promised.
Scarlett nodded. She walked him out to the elevator bank and waited until the doors closed before returning to the observation room.
When she stepped back inside, she found Damian stirring, half–awake.
Seeing a figure enter the dim room, he instinctively curled in on himself. “I’m cold,” he murmured, his voice faint and shaky.
Hearing him, Scarlett hurried to the bedside.
She leaned over to pull the thin hospital blanket more snugly around him.
Just as she began to straighten up, Damian’s arm shot out. His hand caught her wrist, and with a weak but surprising pull, he drew her down onto the narrow bed.
In one fluid motion, he turned and wrapped himself around her, his arms locking firmly around her waist, his hands clasping together against her stomach.
He nestled his chin against the top of her head. His next words were a raw, vulnerable whisper against her hair. “Forget about Vincent. Just… let me love you. Please?”
Scarlett stiffened, then tried to push gently against his hold. “Damian… we’re from two different worlds,” she said, her own voice tinged with helplessness.
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He only held her tighter, his body a tense line against her back. “No,” he murmured into her ear, the word thick with emotion. “There’s no ‘we‘. There’s just me. I’m yours. Whatever you need me to be.”
The intensity of his declaration made her struggle anew, but his grip, fueled by a desperate strength, held fast.
“Scarlett,” he whispered, and now his voice held a note of pure physical misery. “I’m so cold. Don’t go.”
She stilled. He was cold. A deep chill was seeping from his body into hers through the thin layers of their clothes. The blood donation had left him weak and likely hypothermic.
Damian felt her relent. Holding her seemed to siphon the last of his energy. Dizziness washed over him, but concentrating on the feel of her in his arms grounded him. A faint warmth began to seep back into his limbs.
For Scarlett, exhausted by the long, traumatic night and enveloped in his gradually warming embrace, a deep drowsiness became irresistible. Her breathing soon deepened and evened out into sleep.
Hearing the soft, rhythmic sound, Damian let out a quiet, weary sigh that was almost a laugh. Comforted by her presence, he too finally surrendered to sleep.
*****
By the time Nolan finished the intricate, seven–hour brain surgery, the dark sky outside the operating room windows was softening to the deep indigo of pre–dawn.
His body ached with a profound numbness from standing motionless for so long. Yet, his first thought as he stripped off his surgical gown was of Scarlett.
After a quick scrub, he hailed a taxi and directed it back to the first hospital.
In the Emergency Department, he approached the nurse’s station. The nurse on duty confirmed with a tired smile that, yes, the young woman was still in the emergency observation
room.
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