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𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭🫀

Cardan paced the corridor outside the delivery room, his hands trembling as he clenched and unclenched them. The muffled sounds of machines and hurried voices filtered through the door, each second feeling like a lifetime. Moments earlier, Serena had been rushed into surgery, pale and unconscious, her body fragile from the stress of premature labor. Their baby boy, Damian, had been delivered—tiny and struggling—but the doctors’ focus shifted quickly when Serena’s condition worsened.

The door swung open, and a nurse stepped out. Her face was grim. “Mr. Montclair” she said softly, trying to mask the urgency in her voice. “We’re doing everything we can, but her heart has stopped. The doctor is trying to revive her.”

Cardan’s vision blurred. “Stopped?” His voice cracked, the word barely escaping his throat. “No… No, that can’t be. She was just here—she was breathing! She—”

“Please, sir,” the nurse interrupted gently but firmly. “You need to wait here. Let us help her.”

Cardan wanted to protest, to barge in and see her, to hold her hand and plead for her to fight. But his legs buckled beneath him as the weight of the moment crashed down. He sank onto the bench, burying his face in his hands, whispering, “Don’t leave me, Serena… Please.”

Inside the room, Serena lay motionless on the bed, her skin pale against the stark white sheets. The monitor by her bedside emitted an erratic, rapid beeping before flatlining entirely.

“Ventricular fibrillation!” the nurse called out.

“Let’s move, now!” the doctor ordered, pulling down Serena’s hospital gown to expose her chest. “Start compressions!”

A nurse stepped forward, placing her hands over Serena’s bare chest. She pushed down rhythmically, counting aloud. “One, two, three, four…”

The doctor grabbed the ambu bag and positioned it over Serena’s face, squeezing it firmly. Her chest rose and fell with each breath of air forced into her lungs. The room buzzed with urgency, the sound of the flatline a cruel reminder of how fragile her life had become.

“Charging defibrillator,” the doctor announced, his voice steady but tense. He squeezed gel onto the paddles, spreading it quickly before placing one on Serena’s sternum and the other on her apex. “100 joules. Ready—clear!”

Serena’s body jerked slightly off the bed as the shock coursed through her. Everyone stared at the monitor, hoping for a rhythm. The line remained flat.

“Again. Charge to 200.”

“Charged.”

“Clear!”

Her chest lifted higher this time, the force jolting her frail body. But the monitor stayed silent, its flatline mocking their efforts.

“Damn it,” the doctor muttered under his breath. “300 joules.” He glanced at the team, his eyes betraying the fear he fought to suppress. “Come on, Serena. Don’t give up on me.”

The paddles were pressed to her chest again. “Clear!”

Her body convulsed upward, the motion more violent than before. Everyone held their breath, but the line didn’t move.

“360 joules. This is our last chance,” the doctor said, his voice heavy.

“Charging,” the nurse replied.

The doctor leaned close to Serena’s lifeless face. “Fight, Serena. You have to fight. There’s someone waiting for you outside. Don’t leave him. Don’t leave us.”

“Charged.”

“Clear!”

The shock sent Serena’s body arching dramatically before falling back onto the bed, motionless. The monitor let out a low, unbroken tone—a flatline.

“Resume compressions!” the doctor barked.

The nurse immediately began CPR again, her palms pressing hard against Serena’s sternum. Each compression seemed to drain more hope from the room. Sweat beaded on their foreheads as they worked tirelessly, switching between CPR and defibrillation.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The room grew quieter, the urgency giving way to exhaustion and despair.

The doctor stepped back, his hands trembling as he stared at Serena. “Call it,” he whispered, but his voice faltered. “Wait…” He stepped closer again, placing his stethoscope on her chest, as if willing her heart to beat.

Outside, Cardan sat frozen, his mind racing through every memory he had with Serena. The way she smiled, how her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the warmth of her hand in his. He couldn’t lose her—not like this.

“Please…” he whispered to no one. “Come back to me. You promised me forever.”

His heart sank when the door opened, and a nurse stepped out. Her face was pale, her eyes glistening.

“Mr. Montclair…” she began, her voice cracking.

Cardan didn’t wait for her to finish. He pushed past her and into the room.

“Cardan, you can’t—”

But he was already at Serena’s bedside. Her body lay still, her skin cold to the touch. The machines had been turned off, and the team stood silent, their heads bowed.

“Serena,” Cardan choked, falling to his knees beside her. He grabbed her hand, pressing it to his lips. “No… No, no, no. You can’t leave me. You hear me? You can’t!”

Tears streamed down his face as he cupped her cheeks, his voice breaking. “You promised we’d do this together. You promised me…”

For a moment, the room was silent except for Cardan’s sobs. Then, faintly, the monitor emitted a weak, irregular beep.

“Wait,” the doctor said, rushing to her side. “We’ve got something. Weak pulse—start a line, now!”

Cardan froze, his tear-streaked face lifting in disbelief. “She’s alive?”

“Her heart’s beating, but it’s faint,” the doctor said hurriedly. “We’re not out of the woods yet. Give us space.”

Cardan stepped back, hope flickering in his chest as he watched the team work tirelessly to stabilize her. He whispered a prayer, clutching the wedding ring on his finger.

“Come back to me, Serena,” he murmured. “Please.”

________

I know there's some unrealistic practice here like you can't shock a flatline. but anyway,enjoy.

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