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CHAPTER 21
Last Updated:
2025-04-04 10:13:37
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“CELESTE! Welcome home, hija!” her Grandpa Salvador greeted her enthusiastically. Celeste offered a shy but sweet smile in return, her heart swelling with a quiet mixture of relief and affection. The moment felt surreal—stepping out of the van after a long journey and immediately being enveloped in the warm familiarity of family. As they passed through the grand gates of the mansion, her eyes landed on the elderly man who had been waiting there just for her. Dressed neatly and standing tall despite his age, Salvador radiated a kind of joy that softened the edges of her weariness. His face lit up the instant he saw her, his open arms and eager smile making it clear just how much he had missed her.“Grandpa,” was all she could manage to say, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. Without hesitation, she rushed into his embrace, wrapping her arms tightly around him. There was something grounding in the way he held her back—firm and full of unspoken love. For a few seco
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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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“You don’t need to work while studying, son. Your dad and I have already prepared for this. You can finish med school with the money we’ve saved for you.” Her voice was warm, but there was a clear note of worry underlying her words. Marcus could see the concern etched in her features—she wanted to protect him, to ensure he didn’t burn himself out by taking on too much. But as much as he appreciated their support, he also knew that he wanted to take charge of his own future. Marcus shrugged, his gaze dropping to the last bite of the sandwich on his plate. “Mom, I’ll be okay, I promise,” he said, his tone reassuring but resolute. He could tell that she wasn’t entirely convinced, but he was determined to follow his own path. Finishing the sandwich, he wiped his hands on his napkin and looked back at his mother. Despite her concern, he could feel the pride and love in her eyes. He knew they only wanted what was best for him, but Marcus had always been driven by the need to prove himsel
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Marcus took the last bite of the sandwich Juliana had lovingly prepared for him. The flavors were simple yet comforting, a testament to his mother’s knack for knowing exactly what he liked. He couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction as he wiped his lips with a napkin. It wasn’t just the taste that brought a sense of warmth to his chest; it was the thought behind the gesture. It was moments like these that reminded him of how much his mother cared for him in the smallest yet most meaningful ways. Across the table, Juliana’s gaze lingered on her son, her eyes shimmering with affection and pride. She watched his every move with an expression that only a mother could wear—a mixture of tenderness, curiosity, and quiet joy. Her smile never wavered, as though she found pure delight in simply being present in this small but intimate moment. For Marcus, this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. His mother had always looked at him like this, her eyes full of unspoken love and admiration. Ov
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"Doctor, the patient’s blood pressure is dropping fast—seventy over forty!"The anesthesiologist’s urgent voice echoed through the operating room, slicing through the focused silence that had enveloped the surgical team. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to be felt by everyone present. A few beads of sweat formed on the brows of the attending nurses and assistants, but no one hesitated, no one faltered. They were in the middle of a battle against time, and every second counted. But in the midst of it all, Marcus remained composed, his hands steady, his mind razor-sharp. Moments like this were nothing new to him. He had long since become accustomed to the high-stakes, life-or-death scenarios that defined his profession. The intensity of an operating room, the weight of another person’s life resting in his hands—this was his reality. People often likened the work of a surgeon to scenes from a medical drama, the kind that left audiences gripping the edge of their seats.B
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BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 22
“CELESTE! Welcome home, hija!” her Grandpa Salvador greeted her enthusiastically. Celeste offered a shy but sweet smile in return, her heart swelling with a quiet mixture of relief and affection. The moment felt surreal—stepping out of the van after a long journey and immediately being enveloped in the warm familiarity of family. As they passed through the grand gates of the mansion, her eyes landed on the elderly man who had been waiting there just for her. Dressed neatly and standing tall despite his age, Salvador radiated a kind of joy that softened the edges of her weariness. His face lit up the instant he saw her, his open arms and eager smile making it clear just how much he had missed her.“Grandpa,” was all she could manage to say, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. Without hesitation, she rushed into his embrace, wrapping her arms tightly around him. There was something grounding in the way he held her back—firm and full of unspoken love. For a few seco
BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 21
TEN YEARS BEFORE"What would I even do there, Daddy? You can see it, right? My life is here in America. My friends are here," Celeste Montemayor, seventeen years old, replied with a scowl. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest as she slouched in the chair, frustration evident in the way her words escaped her lips. She had tried to make him understand before, but it seemed as though Ismael was determined to overlook her perspective. All her life, Celeste had been surrounded by the comfort and familiarity of her friends and life in the States, and to suddenly uproot herself to a place where she barely felt connected felt like an impossible task. The thought of leaving everything behind—the freedom, the friendships, the life she knew—made her feel trapped in an inescapable situation."That’s exactly why you need to go. You'll learn to be responsible, unlike here where all you do is spend time with your friends and go to parties," Ismael said in a serious tone, his eyes never lea
BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 20
Just as Ismael had said, it was already afternoon when they rushed Salvador to Manila. The urgency of the situation was evident in the tense atmosphere surrounding them. Ismael, ever the responsible son, chose to accompany Salvador in the ambulance, making sure that his father was in the best possible hands.Meanwhile, Celeste and Eva rode together in the family car, driven by their trusted driver. The vehicle moved swiftly, weaving through the city streets, but despite the motion, a heavy weight settled in Celeste’s chest. The air inside the car was thick with unspoken worries, the soft hum of the engine the only thing filling the silence between them. As they traveled, Celeste’s gaze wandered outside, her eyes catching sight of St. Joseph University through the window. The familiar sight sent a rush of emotions through her, a bittersweet feeling tightening in her chest. The campus held so many memories—some filled with laughter and joy, others tinged with longing and regret.She co
BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 19
“How is he, Doc?” Ismael asked Dr. Dizon, the doctor attending Salvador. His voice carried a mix of concern and urgency as he awaited an update on his father’s condition.The weight of the situation was evident in his furrowed brows and the way he shifted uneasily. Every passing moment felt heavy, knowing that his father remained in critical condition, confined within the cold walls of the ICU. Ismael knew that time was against them, and he was desperate for any sign of improvement or hope that his father would recover. His father had arrived the previous night, and the family had immediately adjusted their arrangements to ensure that Salvador received the best care possible. Celeste had gone home to the mansion to welcome their father, prioritizing his return, while Eva had taken over her role as their grandfather’s watcher at the hospital.They had worked together, ensuring that someone was always by Salvador’s side. Now, as morning broke, Celeste and Ismael left the mansion early,
BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 18
Marcus finally had the chance to approach his father before leaving, a moment he had never actively sought but had secretly longed for. For years, he had been content watching from a distance, observing Mario in fleeting glimpses and stolen moments. There was comfort in knowing that his father was improving, that the man who had once been lost in the shadows of his mind was now showing signs of clarity.It had been enough for Marcus to witness this progress without intruding, without forcing a connection that might not be reciprocated. Yet, standing there now, with the opportunity right in front of him, he realized that some part of him had always hoped for a moment like this—to be near his father, to speak to him without the weight of the past overshadowing the present. Inside the room, Mario sat on his bed, resting after the nurse had left him. The door remained slightly open, as if inviting the possibility of a conversation that had been put off for far too long. In the ten years
BENEATH THE SURGEON’S BLADE CHAPTER 17
PRESENT DAY… Once again, Marcus’s heart was weighed down with the heavy burden of regret and longing, all because of that haunting memory. It was as though his mind could never truly escape it. Each day, no matter how much time had passed, he found himself drawn back to that painful moment, reliving it as though it had only happened yesterday. Even though it had been ten years since that fateful event, it felt as though the wound was still fresh, as if the emotional scars were as raw and tender as they had been in the beginning. Time had done little to ease the pain, and no matter how much he tried to move forward, the shadow of the past lingered over him, like an inescapable cloud.The years may have slipped by, but the suffering he and his family endured during that time was so deep and profound that it seemed to engrain itself into his very being. It wasn’t just the loss of security or comfort, but the violent shattering of a life that once seemed so full of promise and stability.
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 co
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
