A Second Chance at Forever

Chapter 1460

Bernard had sought out the top obstetricians in the city to reassess Eleanor’s condition, looking into whether it was possible to save both her and the baby. The verdict they delivered was no different from what Dr. Amelia had already told them.

Determined to leave no stone unturned, Bernard sent the medical reports to George and to the Dean of W City Hospital. Both agreed that performing a caesarean section on a patient with preeclampsia was highly risky; it could lead to severe hemorrhaging, heart failure, or even a stroke. Complicating matters further was Eleanor’s history of heart surgery. Her chances of survival were distressingly uncertain.

Neither the hospital dean nor George were specialists in obstetrics, so they collaborated to find a leading expert in the field and recommended him to Bernard. The expert, upon meeting Bernard, pledged to work alongside Dr. Amelia and do everything within his power to improve Eleanor’s odds from 30% to 40%.

The reluctance of such a renowned expert to guarantee a positive outcome spoke volumes about the risks involved. But the baby was on the way, and the only options were to cling to that 30% or 40% chance or face certain death.

Bernard wasn’t ready to accept fate just yet. He demanded that the doctors ensure a flawless surgery, threatening that any failure would have them joining Eleanor in the grave. His words were heavy with a chilling resolve, and they weighed heavily on the doctors, who convened yet another emergency meeting before the operation. NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

“Dr. Marcus, as the lead surgeon, I want you to do everything in your power to save the baby while you operate,” Bernard insisted. “We’ll have a team on standby, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice.”

“Dr. Amelia, with the mother’s current condition, she could start bleeding out as soon as we make the first incision,” Dr. Marcus replied with a grimace. “I can move quickly to control the bleeding, but I can’t promise the baby won’t suffocate if it takes too long.”

“But…”

“Don’t ‘but’ me. Right now, forget about the baby’s chances. We need to focus on saving the mother’s life.”

The obstetrics conference room buzzed with the intense debate between the two experts. Outside, Eleanor sat, her heart bleeding as she listened. Her seven-month-old unborn child was still active in her womb, yet because of her condition, they were discussing its life as if it was a mere procedural detail.

She looked despondently through the hospital corridor, her gaze falling on the other expecting mothers caressing their bellies with joyous smiles. She had once thought that after all her struggles to conceive, she would be like them, bringing a child smoothly into the world. But for her, that was turning out to be a cruel illusion.

Bernard, noticed her envious gaze and, fearing she might lose hope again, quickly wrapped his arm around her waist, “Eleanor, even without this child, we have Nina. We can treat her as our own daughter. She’ll be with us, and that’s just as precious.”

Yes, there was still Nina. If fate decreed they were to have no child of their own, then perhaps that was something they had to accept. For Bernard’s sake, Eleanor steeled herself.

“When is the surgery scheduled?” she asked, her voice a mix of resignation and courage.

“In a week.”

“Can I go home first?”

She wanted to spend time in the baby’s room, let the unborn child feel the love and warmth she’d poured into it. That way, even if the baby never got the chance to see it, the regret wouldn’t cut as deep.

“Alright.” Bernard agreed, holding Eleanor close before planting a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll take you home to stay for the night, and we’ll come back to the hospital tomorrow.”

Out of an abundance of caution, Bernard had a team of doctors accompany them to Fiord Roundabout. Eleanor headed straight for the room next to Nina’s bedroom as soon as they arrived.

Pushing open the door to the baby’s room, she was greeted by a warm palette of colors. A tiny crib nestled next to a pink princess bed, and a wardrobe nearby was filled with an assortment of cute baby clothes.

Treading softly across the plush, pink carpet, Eleanor opened the wardrobe and picked out a tiny garment, holding it in her palms and imagining her child wearing it. If it was a girl, she would surely have her big, bright eyes, delicate nose, and rosy, cherry lips. Dressed in these clothes, she would be adorable. And if a boy, he would no doubt resemble Bernard with warm, melting eyes like snow on a sunny winter’s day, a proud nose, and pristine lips.

The more Eleanor thought about her child, the more she found herself unable to let go. Tears brimmed in her eyes and began to cascade down her cheeks, soaking her blouse. She collapsed onto the small sofa clutching the little garment, gazing around the room. filled with tenderness that was now steeped in icy despair. The baby, Bernard-those thoughts tormented her relentlessly….

Finally, she brought her hands to her face, sobbing uncontrollably. If she could, she would give her life for her baby to live. But then, what about Bernard?

The choice between her husband and her child was excruciating for Eleanor. Her maternal instincts fiercely battled with her love for Bernard, but in the end, the desire to see her baby live was overwhelming.