I watched his back as he walked away, my lips parted slightly, whispering, “Goodbye, Ronald.”Just then, an unfamiliar doctor walked in with my parents.“This time, it’s no small amount. Has the blood donation consent form been signed?”My parents glanced at me, then nodded. “It’s signed, doctor. Beatrice’s surgery can start. Please take good care of her.”Seeing how easily they signed the consent form, I murmured softly, “Mom, Dad, I will always love you.”It was something I used to say to them when I was little.I remember a time when things were different. There was a period when my parents, possibly after some business failure, seemed defeated for a long time. Little me would place my soft hands on their faces and gently comfort them, and they’d find the strength to carry on.“With me here, our Beatrice will get better. Everything will get better.” I repeated those words now, as I was being wheeled into the operating room, in a bitter, almost pleading tone.For a brief moment, my
Last Updated : 2024-10-25 Read more