?<strong>Chapter 969:</strong>


    Holding onto the bed firmly, Kristopher remained stationary, reluctance evident in his voice. “Shouldn’t a doctor be the one to assess her condition first?” he asked.


    Aliza, gripping her clothing tightly, was overwhelmed by a surge of panic.


    The nurse responded withposure, “In such urgent situations, we don’t hesitate. Although she hasn’t developed a significant bump, the bleeding is severe—it’s a critical condition. I’ve alerted the doctor, and we’ll proceed with treatment as soon as we have confirmation. We could adhere to standard procedures and take her to the office, but any dys could have serious consequences for which you would be ountable, not the hospital.”


    Kristopher’s hand rxed from the bed’s railing as he heard this. “Just ensure their safety, both mother and child.”


    With a stern tone, the nurse replied, “We’re doing all we can,” and wheeled Aliza into surgery.


    Momentster, two doctors d in white hurried past.


    Opting not to interfere and risk dying the procedure, Kristopher remained back. He walked over to the waiting area, sinking into a seat. He pulled out a cigarette and was about to light it, but his interest waned, and he let it smolder untouched in his hand.


    A nurse passing by noticed and warned, “There’s no smoking allowed here.”


    Caught off guard, he straightened and said, “I’m sorry.”


    The nurse paused, taken aback by his good looks. She muttered to herself, “How can someone so attractive be here at such a time?” She had seen a woman in distress rushed into surgery. Now thinking of it, she wondered if he was that pregnant woman’s husband. His striking features and evident devotion made her think, “His wife is truly fortunate.”


    The operating room’s lights flickered on, casting a bright glow that seemed to stretch time itself. It felt like an eternity before the lights finally dimmed.


    Kristopher rose swiftly, his eyes fixed intently on the door to the operating room, fearful that even a single blink might cause him to miss something crucial.


    The doors swung open, and the two doctors emerged sequentially. The leading doctor caught Kristopher’s fraught look and said gently, “I’m sorry, we couldn’t save the baby. However, you’re still young. There’s still time to try for another child.”


    At those words, Kristopher’s world shattered. A momentary void enveloped his thoughts, swiftly reced by a surge of agony unparalleled by anything he had previously endured.


    The phrase “we couldn’t save the baby” haunted him, morphing from the doctor’s voice into a distant, haunting echo.


    This agonizing memory felt hauntingly familiar, as if it was a recurring nightmare from another time and ce.


    The unfamiliar voice grew louder, merging with the surrounding noise, and Kristopher’s head throbbed violently, as if it were on the verge of splitting open.


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