She felt nauseous. Even with her eyes closed, the room seemed to spin around her. Her mind was foggy, unable to piece together what had happened. The only thing she knew for certain was that she felt awful.
When she tried to open her eyes, the vertigo intensified. She needed to focus on something—anything—to ground herself. A steady, recurring beeping sound caught her attention. It was soft, rhythmic, and oddly comforting. Slowly, her dizziness subsided, and she became more aware of the sounds around her.
Then it hit her: she was in a hospital room. The faint hum of monitoring equipment confirmed it. Although the events of the past hours were still a blur, she could now open her eyes. The stark familiarity of the ICU greeted her—she had brought patients here countless times before.
Her gaze shifted to the man sitting in a chair beside her bed. It was Connor. He sat quietly, staring out the window, his profile outlined by the dim light. Even from this angle, she could tell he was deeply concerned.
"Hi," Ava said weakly.
Connor flinched, startled out of his thoughts. "Oh, sorry, I was—"
"Lost in your mind," Ava finished for him with a small, teasing smile. The effort brought on a fit of coughing.
"Are you okay?" Connor asked, his voice laced with worry.
"Yes, just tired and a bit dizzy. What happened?"
Before he could answer, the door opened, and Dr. Latham, Dr. Clarke and Dr. Virchow stepped in. They began explaining what had transpired.
The surgery hadn't gone as planned. They had started with the mitral valve as expected, but anatomical complications made it far more challenging than anticipated. Ultimately, they decided to focus on the aortic valve first. That part of the procedure went smoothly, but when they returned to the mitral valve, things took a turn. Ava had experienced a panic episode during surgery, forcing them to stop and sedate her.
Ava listened, puzzled at first, but then fragments of memory surfaced. She remembered the hypnosis—being back in the woods, the little girl's pleading gaze, and the swarm of bats screaming accusations at her. The panic she'd felt then had been overwhelming, and now, even the memory made her chest tighten.
Naturally, both Ava and Connor were worried about their baby, but the doctors reassured them. Their baby girl was fine. However, Ava would need to stay under observation at the hospital for several days. She would also require close monitoring for the remainder of her pregnancy. Bed rest was now non-negotiable, and she'd have to stay home and take it easy until her baby was born. "No there is no way I'm gonna stay at home for the rest of my pregnancy, I'm gonna go crazy"
"Ava, I don't think you realize," Dr. Latham said, his face as emotionless as ever, "even if the surgery was partially successful, you're still at high risk of heart failure. You need to rest."
"I'll stay out of the OR and stick to consultations, but I'm not spending three months stuck on my couch," Ava replied, her voice firm with determination.
"We'll see," Dr. Latham said, his tone neutral, "but there's another matter we need to discuss. After you give birth, we'll need to address your heart in a more permanent way."
"Yeah, we'll see," Ava echoed, mimicking his words with a childish stubbornness. Fear tugged at her, and denial was easier than facing it.
Dr. Clark stepped in, her voice tinged with worry. "Ava, this is serious. The pregnancy is going to make your heart problems worse. We'll manage it with medication, but in my experience, things often don't return to normal after delivery." She hesitated for a moment, careful with her words. Deep down, she wasn't even sure Ava would make it through the birth.
"I'm tired," Ava said abruptly, signaling the end of the conversation.
The medical team understood and left the room, leaving them alone. Connor didn't understand Ava's reaction, and as usual, they started arguing.
"I don't want this surgery, Connor."
"What's the point of all this if your goal is to die from cardiac failure—a failure we could prevent with surgery? I don't want to raise our child alone. You're being selfish!" His voice was now tinged with anger.
"I told you, I'm tired," she said, turning onto the other side of the bed.
Connor left the room, needing space to calm down. Ava lay there, the silence pressing down on her, until her tears came—she couldn't stop them. She had a bad feeling about the surgery. Deep down, she was convinced she wouldn't survive it, though she couldn't explain why. It was just a sense, anchored so deeply inside her. She knew they wouldn't understand. It wasn't rational—she knew it wasn't—but that feeling was different, stronger than anything she'd felt before.
She didn't want the surgery for the same reason she didn't want a c-section: she was afraid of dying, but more than that, she was terrified by the thought of never getting the chance to know her daughter.
Connor stepped onto the hospital roof, a space they had transformed into a serene retreat with a clear view of Chicago's skyline. It was a quiet place where people often came to think. He was surprised to find he wasn't alone—Dr. Charles was already there, leaning against the railing.
"Rough day?" Connor asked as he approached the psychiatrist.
"Not as rough as yours," Dr. Charles replied, giving Connor one of his knowing looks. "Helena told me about Ava's surgery."
"Yeah," Connor said with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair.
Dr. Charles could sense there was more weighing on him than the surgery's complications. "Is there something you want to talk about?"
Connor hesitated, then finally blurted, "I don't understand Ava. She's acting childish and selfish," his voice laced with desperation.
Dr. Charles nodded thoughtfully. "I know Ava. There's a lot she keeps to herself—especially when she's scared. I have a feeling something happened while she was under hypnosis. You should try talking to her. I can try to speak with her if you'd like, but I think it might mean more coming from you."
