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CHAPTER 12
Last Updated:
2025-02-22 11:37:59
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BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 13
As soon as the doctor stepped out of the ER, Celeste and Eva surged forward, their voices overlapping in urgency. “Doc!”The weight of their desperation hung heavy in the air, their breaths uneven as they searched the doctor's face for any sign of hope. But instead of reassurance, they were met with a somber expression—one that sent an icy shiver down Celeste’s spine. She tightened her grip on Eva’s hand, her heart hammering inside her chest, as if bracing for a storm she wasn’t prepared to face. The doctor exhaled sharply before delivering the words that made Celeste’s world tilt on its axis. “The patient’s condition isn’t good.”The bluntness of the statement cut through her like a dagger, leaving her momentarily frozen. Her fingers, which had been gripping the fabric of her blouse, suddenly felt numb, her palms growing cold and clammy. A sinking feeling coiled in her stomach, making it hard to breathe. She wanted to scream, to demand an explanation, but the words lodged themselves
Last Updated : 2025-02-25BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 14
Eva’s voice trembled, laced with sorrow and desperation, as she stood beside Celeste, her frail hands clutching each other tightly. Her eyes, brimming with unshed tears, remained fixed on Salvador’s still figure beyond the glass wall of the ICU. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the soft hum of the ventilator were the only signs that life still clung to him, however weakly. Her breath hitched, and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand, as if trying to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. “What are we going to do, hija?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze pleading for an answer Celeste wasn’t sure she had. Celeste hastily wiped at her cheeks, but the tears refused to stop. The ache in her chest felt unbearable, like an invisible dagger had been thrust into her heart, each pulse of pain a cruel reminder of how fragile Salvador’s life had become. It was a struggle to breathe, to think clearly, to keep herself from completely falling apart. But s
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Even though the room was cold, it wasn’t enough to ease the heaviness pressing down on Celeste’s chest. The air carried a stillness so profound that it felt suffocating, wrapping around her like an invisible weight. The silence was deafening, making her acutely aware of every breath she took, every anxious thought racing through her mind. It was as if time itself had slowed, trapping her in this moment of uncertainty. Yet, amidst the quiet, one sound persisted—the steady, rhythmic beeping of the monitor connected to Salvador. It was a fragile melody of life, a mechanical heartbeat that tethered him to the world, and in turn, anchored Celeste to the fragile hope that he would endure. The sound of the monitor was more than just a medical device doing its job; to Celeste, it was a ticking clock, marking each second that her grandfather still clung to life. Every soft beep reassured her that he was still here, still fighting, but at the same time, it served as an ominous warning. If the
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Mario sat in the middle of the grand hall, his face calm yet illuminated by the joy of the moment. The room was adorned with elegant decorations, the warm glow of chandeliers casting soft light over the guests who had gathered to celebrate his milestone. Laughter and chatter filled the air, a symphony of voices blending with the soft music playing in the background. Seventy years of life was no small feat, and despite everything, he was grateful to be surrounded by his friends. Yet, beneath the grandeur of the occasion, there were undercurrents of unspoken emotions—memories that lingered in the minds of those closest to him, shaping the way they saw this day. "Sometimes, I can't help but feel bitter," Marcus admitted, his voice tinged with frustration as he let out a deep sigh. His eyes lingered on his father, who sat at the center of it all, a man who had endured and survived much. "If everything hadn't happened, maybe my father's party would be different today… Not like this."He c
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“How is he?” Marcus asked, his voice steady, though a hint of unease betrayed the calm exterior he wore.Deep down, he yearned for a miracle—some reassurance that his father was on the path to recovery, that the man who had once been his guiding light would return to him. His words were weighted with both hope and trepidation, a fragile mix of emotions that only those who loved deeply could understand. “He’s the same as before,” the doctor replied, his tone measured yet tinged with empathy. The words hung in the air like an unspoken acknowledgment of the battle they both knew too well. As if to soften the blow, the doctor placed a comforting hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “But I still haven’t lost hope,” he added with quiet conviction. The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable—a small flame of optimism burning in a sea of uncertainty. Marcus exhaled heavily, the sigh carrying the weight of years spent in limbo. His gaze shifted to a figure sitting beneath the sprawling branches of a l
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If only he could heal this, Marcus thought bitterly. He was a surgeon renowned for his expertise, a man whose hands had performed miracles in operating rooms. His colleagues spoke of him with reverence, marveling at his precision and skill. But none of that mattered here. The wounds he tended in his profession were tangible—visible cuts that could be sutured, broken bones that could be set. The wound inside him, however, was something no scalpel could mend. It was deep and unrelenting, a mix of grief, guilt, and longing that stemmed from memories too painful to dwell on. As much as Marcus wanted to believe that time could heal all wounds, he doubted it could ever touch the one etched in his heart.“Dad?” Marcus’s voice was barely audible, as if even speaking louder would disturb the fragile silence surrounding the man sitting under the acacia tree.His father, unmoving, kept his gaze fixed on some distant point, his expression a blend of detachment and tranquility. The sight tugged pa
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10 YEARS AGO…Marcus barely noticed the late hour as his fingers flew over the keyboard, the words on his screen blurring slightly from the strain of staring too long. His focus was broken by the soft, concerned voice of his mother, Juliana, as she appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Oh, son, aren’t you done yet? Look at the time; you’re still awake.” Her tone was gentle, but there was no missing the worry in her words. He glanced up and met her gaze, feeling an immediate sense of calm wash over him. The warmth of her presence was a quiet, grounding force amidst the chaos of his late-night work session. Juliana’s face, though slightly lined from years of dedication and hard work, was still undeniably beautiful. Her features, which had matured gracefully, carried the kind of strength and resilience that only time and experience could impart. In that moment, Marcus was reminded of how much his mother had endured and how much she had given for him to be where he was today. It wasn’t j
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“Is that so?” she said with a thoughtful nod. “Okay then, I won’t make you coffee. You might have trouble sleeping later.” With a decisive motion, she returned the cup she’d been holding back into the cupboard. Her understanding demeanor reminded Marcus of how supportive his parents had always been, encouraging him to pursue his ambitions without hesitation. His gaze drifted back to his laptop screen as he thought about why he worked so hard. Graduating with a degree in BS Biology was just the first step on a long journey. His goal wasn’t just to finish school—it was to continue to medical school and eventually specialize as a cardiothoracic surgeon. It was a lofty ambition, requiring years of intense study and rigorous training, but Marcus welcomed the challenge. In ten years, he envisioned himself in a bustling hospital, performing life-saving surgeries and making a tangible difference in people’s lives. The thought filled him with purpose, making every late night and sacrifice
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BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 16
Mario sat in the middle of the grand hall, his face calm yet illuminated by the joy of the moment. The room was adorned with elegant decorations, the warm glow of chandeliers casting soft light over the guests who had gathered to celebrate his milestone. Laughter and chatter filled the air, a symphony of voices blending with the soft music playing in the background. Seventy years of life was no small feat, and despite everything, he was grateful to be surrounded by his friends. Yet, beneath the grandeur of the occasion, there were undercurrents of unspoken emotions—memories that lingered in the minds of those closest to him, shaping the way they saw this day. "Sometimes, I can't help but feel bitter," Marcus admitted, his voice tinged with frustration as he let out a deep sigh. His eyes lingered on his father, who sat at the center of it all, a man who had endured and survived much. "If everything hadn't happened, maybe my father's party would be different today… Not like this."He c
BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 15
Even though the room was cold, it wasn’t enough to ease the heaviness pressing down on Celeste’s chest. The air carried a stillness so profound that it felt suffocating, wrapping around her like an invisible weight. The silence was deafening, making her acutely aware of every breath she took, every anxious thought racing through her mind. It was as if time itself had slowed, trapping her in this moment of uncertainty. Yet, amidst the quiet, one sound persisted—the steady, rhythmic beeping of the monitor connected to Salvador. It was a fragile melody of life, a mechanical heartbeat that tethered him to the world, and in turn, anchored Celeste to the fragile hope that he would endure. The sound of the monitor was more than just a medical device doing its job; to Celeste, it was a ticking clock, marking each second that her grandfather still clung to life. Every soft beep reassured her that he was still here, still fighting, but at the same time, it served as an ominous warning. If the
BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 14
Eva’s voice trembled, laced with sorrow and desperation, as she stood beside Celeste, her frail hands clutching each other tightly. Her eyes, brimming with unshed tears, remained fixed on Salvador’s still figure beyond the glass wall of the ICU. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the soft hum of the ventilator were the only signs that life still clung to him, however weakly. Her breath hitched, and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand, as if trying to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. “What are we going to do, hija?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze pleading for an answer Celeste wasn’t sure she had. Celeste hastily wiped at her cheeks, but the tears refused to stop. The ache in her chest felt unbearable, like an invisible dagger had been thrust into her heart, each pulse of pain a cruel reminder of how fragile Salvador’s life had become. It was a struggle to breathe, to think clearly, to keep herself from completely falling apart. But s
BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 13
As soon as the doctor stepped out of the ER, Celeste and Eva surged forward, their voices overlapping in urgency. “Doc!”The weight of their desperation hung heavy in the air, their breaths uneven as they searched the doctor's face for any sign of hope. But instead of reassurance, they were met with a somber expression—one that sent an icy shiver down Celeste’s spine. She tightened her grip on Eva’s hand, her heart hammering inside her chest, as if bracing for a storm she wasn’t prepared to face. The doctor exhaled sharply before delivering the words that made Celeste’s world tilt on its axis. “The patient’s condition isn’t good.”The bluntness of the statement cut through her like a dagger, leaving her momentarily frozen. Her fingers, which had been gripping the fabric of her blouse, suddenly felt numb, her palms growing cold and clammy. A sinking feeling coiled in her stomach, making it hard to breathe. She wanted to scream, to demand an explanation, but the words lodged themselves
BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 12
As soon as Celeste stepped out of the van, a rush of emotions surged through her. The long hours of travel, the exhaustion from the flight—all of it melted away the moment her eyes landed on the elderly man standing by the grand house’s entrance. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath hitching as she took in the sight of him. He looked older than she remembered, his once-strong frame slightly more fragile, his hair grayer. But despite the changes, his presence remained as comforting as ever.Without a second thought, she sprinted toward him, her steps light with anticipation, her voice breaking with emotion as she called out, “Grandpa!” The moment she reached him, Salvador opened his arms wide, catching her in a tight embrace. “Celeste, my granddaughter!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with warmth and relief.His grip was strong, firm, as though he was afraid to let go—as though he was trying to make up for all the years they had spent apart. Celeste buried her face in his should
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The air inside the hospital carried a familiar chill, one that Marcus had long grown accustomed to. The sterile scent of antiseptics lingered in the corridors, blending with the faint hum of medical equipment. It was a setting he navigated daily—unfazed by the cold, unaffected by the rigid environment. His white coat, a symbol of his profession and dedication, fit him like second skin as he walked with steady purpose. In his hands, he held a patient’s chart, his sharp eyes scanning the details with quiet focus. He had checked on this patient the previous day, making sure that his recovery was progressing as expected. The man in question was no ordinary patient—he was a well-known businessman, a figure of influence, and someone whose life now rested in the careful balance of medicine and healing. Three days had passed since Marcus had performed a bypass surgery on him, and now, it was time to assess how well his body was responding to the procedure. When he reached Room 307, Marcus pu
BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 10
“My granddaughter is coming home tomorrow, Eva. I want you to prepare all her favorite dishes. Make sure everything is in order—for Celeste,” Salvador instructed Eva that morning as he ate his breakfast. The old man’s voice carried a certain eagerness, a rare spark that had been absent in recent years. His once powerful presence had softened with age, but when he spoke of Celeste, a different kind of energy seemed to stir within him. The weight of the years, the burdens of his past, all seemed momentarily lifted at the thought of his granddaughter returning home. There was a deep fondness in the way he uttered her name, a love so unwavering that even time could not erode it. Eva simply nodded at everything Salvador said and continued tending to him as she always did. She took joy in serving him, not out of mere duty but out of something deeper—an affection that had been cultivated over the years. She had been by his side for so long, witnessing the many facets of the man who now sat
BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 9
Celeste smiled as she placed her phone down, shifting her attention back to the papers in front of her. Ever since she was a child, she had dreamed of owning her own jewelry store. This had always been her passion—something she truly wanted to do. It was far from the course she had initially pursued back in the Philippines—BS Biology. Her father, Ismael, had wanted her to become a doctor. But that was never her dream. She found happiness in designing and sketching jewelry, in expressing her emotions through the delicate details of her creations. "BS Biology," Celeste murmured to herself, a bitter smile forming on her lips. That was the course she had taken when she studied at St. Joseph University, the most prestigious university in the town of Mercedes. She had never understood why her father, Ismael, insisted on enrolling her there, especially when her grandfather, Salvador, was a powerful congressman at the time. With his wealth and influence, he could have easily sent her to t
BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 8
It was late afternoon, and the soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the large windows of Salvador Montemayor's office, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. Salvador, the former Congressman of the third district of Mercedes, sat at his desk, hands clasped together as he stared out at the peaceful view of the garden outside. Though he had left politics behind years ago, his mind often wandered back to those heady days of power, the speeches, the debates, the promises.At eighty-five years old, he was well aware that time was no longer on his side, yet compared to many people his age, he felt remarkably strong. His body still had some vigor left in it, though his breathing would sometimes betray him—shortness of breath that he attributed to his advancing years. It was nothing to be overly concerned about, he assured himself. Perhaps it was the toll of old age, perhaps it was simply the inevitable decline of his physical form. Still, despite these minor signs of his aging, h
