After Naylor set Henry down, the boy walked straight toward Jessica.

Jessica was leaning against the wall, her gaze fixed anxiously on the doors to the operating room. She was silently praying that Timothy's surgery would go

smoothly.

The last thing she wanted was to owe him such a life-altering debt.

All her attention was wrapped around the worries in her heart.

Suddenly, a small, warm hand slipped into hers.

Glancing to her side, she saw Henry looking up at her with innocent, searching eyes.

His expression was riddled with guilt, uncertainty, and a hint of fear.

Henry was afraid she might push him away.

The look in her son's eyes made Jessica's heart soften.

She didn't say a word or pull away. She simply let Henry hold her hand in his steady, silent grip.

glanced over at them. The sight of mother and

together by something deep and unspoken. No matter the years or

the image unsettled him. It was as if Jessica and Henry, standing hand in hand, belonged exclusively to Timothy—even though Timothy wasn't even with them at that moment, it felt as

why he felt this way,

to Jessica might not

made her choice

resentment gnawed

had he lost to

Timothy have that

years before

by, each passing

afraid that if he spoke, Jessica would snap

he and his mother had been this close-how many years since they'd held hands like

long nor short, lasted about three hours. At last, the doors

utterly exhausted. He had led the operation as chief surgeon—a renowned neurologist, with a

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