The Emergency

Maximilian's car followed the ambulance, a relentless shadow matching its urgency. As soon as the ambulance screeched to a halt at the emergency bay of the nearest hospital, his car veered into the drop-off zone behind it. The moment the car stopped, he threw the door open and dashed toward the back of the ambulance.

The paramedics swung the doors open, revealing the grim scene inside. The stretcher was brought out, and it was drenched in Aurora's blood. Her usually vibrant, sun-tanned skin was now a ghostly, terrifying pale.

They had wrapped her wounds in an attempt to staunch the bleeding, but the bandages were already saturated, a desperate measure that had barely worked.

"The patient is in hypovolemic shock. Her blood pressure is dangerously low. Her body is shutting down," one paramedic rattled off to the waiting triage nurses in a clipped, professional tone.

"Acknowledged. We'll type her blood and start a transfusion immediately," a nurse stated, already moving to guide the stretcher inside.

Maximilian saw her condition, and his heart turned to ice. He felt as if someone had poured a bucket of freezing water over him, numbing him from the inside out. With a shaky heart, he followed the group into the bright, sterile chaos of the ER.

"A-negative," he said, his voice an urgent, raw sound he never thought he was capable of making.

When the nurses and paramedics turned to look at him, he continued, his gaze fixed on Aurora's lifeless form. "I'm her childhood friend. Her blood type is A-negative. If you don't have it in your storage, I can manage…"

Before he could finish, a paramedic monitoring her vitals shouted, "She's crashing! BP is 70 over 40! Get an A-negative line going, NOW!"

The confirmation sent the nurses into a renewed flurry of action, hurrying to the blood bank.

In front of the operating theater, a man was already waiting, gowned in green surgical scrubs. It was Ryan Damson. As Aurora was rushed past him into the OR, he turned and placed a steadying hand on his nephew's shoulder. "I'll take care of her, Max. I'll do my best. Don't worry."

Max could only give a forced, jerky nod. His body was too stiff; his muscles locked in place. His eyes stayed glued to the operating table until the doors were slammed shut, severing his view.

He stood there, rooted to the spot, for who knew how long. He barely registered the sound of several footsteps rushing toward him.

"Max, did the operation start already?" It was Jacob, breathless. He must have commanded his driver to break every speed limit to get here.

He had been there during the accident as part of Aurora's team. He had promised Maximilian just yesterday that he wouldn't let Aurora run wild and would take good care of her.

However, forget about taking care of her; he couldn't even protect her from the terrifying accident. He was horrified when he saw her broken body. While others called for the ambulance, his first, frantic call was to Maximilian, followed by one to Aurora's family.

Now, recovered from the initial shock, guilt consumed him. He couldn't even look his cousin in the eye. When he rushed to the operating center and found Max rooted in the spot, he knew he had been standing there since the doors closed. With Aurora on the operating table, there was no way Max could sit.

He hesitated for a bit before saying, "I heard from my driver that my dad is the lead surgeon. Did you call him on the way?"

"Hmm," Maximilian gave a slight nod, his voice a hollow echo. He had called his uncle, the renowned neurosurgeon Ryan Damson, the moment after Jacob's panicked call.

Ryan's workplace wasn't far from this hospital. When he heard about the accident, he hurried over as soon as he could. Luckily, he came. The operation's success rate had just increased exponentially with his presence.

"It's good that my dad is here," Jacob said, the words laced with desperate hope. "With him here, we won't have to worry about the operation." He grabbed Maximilian's arm and said, "Let's sit down. Don't just stand there."

However, Maximilian didn't budge an inch, a statue of grief and fear. Jacob gave up persuading him. 'Forget it,' he thought. 'If it makes him feel better, he could just stand here until the operation ends.'

At that time, a distraught group of people rushed into the corridor. They were Andrew, Theresa, and Tiana Reid. Andrew and Theresa were Aurora's parents, while Tiana was her younger sister.

Their complexions weren't great. They looked pale and disheveled, their eyes bloodshot, probably from crying the entire car ride here.

Tiana was still wearing her school uniform. The nine-year-old was in middle school. Her father had picked her up from school before coming here. Unlike her shell-shocked parents, her eyes were still streaming, and she was crying soft, helpless sobs.

The entire family was worried sick about their firstborn.

In the entire family, only Andrew Reid was the most composed person at that moment, though the tremor in his hands betrayed him. He asked in a hoarse, broken voice, "How was her condition when she was brought in?"

Maximilian was always deeply polite to Aurora's family. The Reids had watched him grow up alongside Aurora and Jacob, and they all knew about the budding relationship between him and their daughter.

He forced himself to reply calmly, "She was unconscious when she was brought in. She lost a lot of blood."

Aurora's parents' faces became ghastly pale upon hearing the news. Theresa Reid couldn't handle it anymore. A broken whimper escaped her lips, her legs buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold floor.

"Mom!" Tiana shouted in desperation.

Maximilian and Andrew quickly moved, grabbing her under the arms and helping her into a nearby chair. Noticing that her complexion was alarmingly ashen, Jacob hastily went to fetch a doctor.

"My uncle is the leading surgeon," Maximilian confessed to the distraught parents, clinging to this one piece of good news. "He promised that he'd do his best."

Upon hearing that Ryan Damson himself was in charge, Andrew and Theresa were slightly relieved. However, it still wasn't enough to entirely quell the storm of worry raging inside them.

A doctor came and examined Theresa, informing the family that due to shock and low blood pressure, she had become weak. He suggested that she rest in a private room, but she refused, clutching her husband's arm. "My daughter is in the operating room. How can I rest? I won't be able to relax."

Just then, the operating room doors burst open, and a few nurses rushed out, their arms laden with multiple, dark red units of packed red blood cells. In the brief moment the doors were open, a snippet of frantic conversation from inside sliced through the hallway.

"We're four units in and she's just not stabilizing!"

"I need more blood, now!"

The door swung shut, abruptly shielding the chaos inside from the terrified people in the corridor. A heavy, deadly silence descended, thick and suffocating.