The Choice

48 Hours Ago

“Dr. Clyfford, are you certain you should proceed without family consent?” The nurse’s voice wavered as she scanned the sterile, bright-lit room, her eyes wide with worry.

Archer looked up from his position, a slight tremor in his hand as he tried to steady himself. 

“This isn’t a choice. She’s in critical danger,” he replied, his tone firm but tinged with an urgency he couldn’t suppress. “I won’t wait for people who should have been here already.”

The nurse hesitated, biting her lip as she considered his words. “But… Doctor, her husband isn’t here, and… isn’t he supposed to make the decision for her?”

A flare of anger shot through Archer. Christian should have been by Violet’s side, protecting her, comforting her. Instead, she’d been abandoned. How could he leave her like this?

“Yes,” Archer said tightly, struggling to keep his frustration in check. “Yes, he should be here. But he isn’t. And every second we waste waiting for him puts Violet’s life in even greater jeopardy.” He paused, letting his words sink in. The look in his eyes brooked no argument.

A young, junior doctor shifted nervously, wringing his hands as he glanced from Archer to the surgical tools laid out.

“Dr. Clyfford, going ahead without anyone’s permission… What if there’s backlash?”

Archer’s gaze sharpened, his patience wearing thin.

“If there’s backlash, then let it fall on me. But this woman- this innocent life -doesn’t have time for their approval. And I won’t let her pay the price for other people’s mistakes.” His voice was steady, but beneath it, an undercurrent of pain and frustration was apparent.

The team around him exchanged wary glances. The room was thick with tension, filled with the quiet hum of machines and the shallow, labored breathing of Violet lying unconscious on the operating table. He knew his colleagues were nervous, reluctant to move forward without proper consent. The rules were clear, the protocols were in place for situations exactly like this, when a patient was alone and decisions fell into a gray area.

But nothing felt gray about this to Archer.

“Look,” he said, softening his tone, “I understand why you’re all concerned. But she’s hemorrhaging, and her vitals are all over the place. If we don’t act now-”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Everyone in the room understood the gravity of the situation.

A long silence followed, and finally, a senior nurse stepped forward. She looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. 

“Dr. Clyfford, we trust you. If you say this is what’s best, we’ll proceed.”

“Thank you.” Archer gave her a brief, grateful nod, trying to conceal the weight of the responsibility bearing down on him.

Just then, another nurse hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Dr. Clyfford… what about… the baby?” Her eyes were somber as she looked at the still figure of Violet, her body fragile and pale, lying beneath the harsh lights.

The question pierced him. The baby. His heart clenched painfully as he looked at Violet, this brave, kind woman who’d been put through more than anyone should ever endure. The child she’d wanted, the one she’d fought so hard for, had been lost. And yet, there was still so much he could lose. He knew that every action, every decision he made, could change her life forever.

“I know what this means,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I know what it will do to her. But her life is at risk. I have to put her first, even if-” He trailed off, the rest of his words caught in his throat.

The nurses and doctors in the room nodded, expressions somber as they prepared to move forward. The machines beeped steadily in the background, a cruel reminder of Violet’s fragile state. And as Archer prepared himself to proceed, he felt the weight of what he was about to do settle heavily on his shoulders. This was a choice that could change everything, that would shatter her dreams and leave a wound that no amount of time could ever heal.

He looked down at Violet, lying helplessly before him, and felt a pang of despair. 

If only things had been different.

If only he could take away her pain, her grief.

But he couldn’t. All he could do was be there for her now, in this terrible moment, and hope that somehow, in the future, she would understand.

He adjusted his mask, his face now hidden behind the sterile barrier, yet his eyes revealed the turmoil inside. He glanced around the room, catching the eyes of each nurse and doctor, silently conveying his determination.

“Let’s do this.”

The surgical team nodded, each of them tense but resolute. The nurses moved around him, preparing instruments and monitoring the machines, their movements mechanical yet precise. And as Archer began the procedure, a heavy silence fell over the room.

Time passed slowly, each moment stretching into an eternity. Every incision, every movement, felt like a betrayal. He was saving her, yes, but he was also robbing her of the one thing she had held onto through all the pain, the one piece of hope she’d had left. And he was powerless to stop it.

At last, the procedure was over. Archer straightened, pulling off his gloves as he looked down at Violet. She was stable- alive. But he knew that when she awoke, the reality would shatter her. She would ask for her child, her precious child that had been taken away. And what could he say to her then? How could he look her in the eyes and tell her that he’d been the one to make the call, that he’d chosen to prioritize her life over the baby she’d loved so fiercely?

A soft voice broke the silence.

“Dr. Clyfford, she’ll be alright now, won’t she?”

Archer looked up, meeting the nurse’s gaze. There was sympathy there, understanding. He nodded, though the ache in his chest didn’t lessen.

“Yes,” he replied softly. “Physically, she’ll recover. But- some things take a lifetime to heal.”

One by one, the surgical team began to filter out of the room, leaving him alone with Violet. He stood there for a long moment, watching her as she lay motionless, her face peaceful in sleep. 

If only she knew how many people had failed her, how deeply she’d been let down.

For the first time in his career, Archer felt the overwhelming burden of regret- a rare, foreign feeling that gnawed at him. He reached out, gently touching her hand, his fingers lightly grazing over her pale skin. 

“I’m so sorry, Violet,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry. You deserved so much more.”

His words faded into the quiet of the room, swallowed up by the steady hum of machines and the rhythmic beeping of her heartbeat. He wished he could make things right, could erase the pain she was about to face. But he knew that was a wish no doctor, no friend, could ever grant.