/Samantha/
Twenty-seven hours to the minute after the knife had entered his body, I felt a movement in the hand that was in mine. I sputtered and looked at it in disbelief, thinking to myself, "did that really just happen, or did my mind conjure that up because I wasn't getting enough sleep?" As I glanced at his fingers, my pulse was pounding wildly in my chest. I desperately wanted them to move again so that I could confirm that I wasn't merely imagining things. I was so delighted that I leapt out of my seat when he gave me the signal to do so with a slight twitch of his index finger.
"His hand was shaking!" As I looked at his face and waited for him to open his eyes, I couldn't help but cry.
Following Linda and Richard's lead, the rest of us got up and leaned over the bed while we waited. When his hand began to squeeze mine, Linda let out a little laugh, and Richard clicked the button on the wall that was labelled "Call" to catch the attention of the doctor.
The same doctor who had been there the day before dashed in, and it was clear that his shift had ended and begun again; nonetheless, this fact made the time feel even longer for some reason. After him, a nurse entered the room, and both of them gazed at us with a curious expression.
Richard elaborated by saying, "His hand moved."
I couldn't tear my gaze away from Henry, I dared not even blink in case I missed something, and I found it difficult to even take a breath as I continued to stand there and watch Henry. After what seemed like a minute, his eyelids began to quiver.
The physician made his way around to the various machines and checked the printout of his heart monitor. He asked Linda and Richard to move out of the way so that he could get access.
It took place all of a sudden, and as it did, I drew in a ragged breath as a tiny easing of my fear and stress took place. As Henry's eyelids twitched before opening, I made a concerted effort to hide the dread and despair that was rising up inside of me. I managed to muster up a feeble smile as he moaned and raised his hand to pull at the tube that was being inserted down his throat. I instantly grabbed his hand and moved his hair away from his forehead as he looked at me.
"Henry, be quiet; everything will be all right. As the nurse and doctor approached the bed's side, I said to the patient in a reassuring tone, "Don't worry, everything is going to be fine; they'll take that out." When our eyes connected, I was able to see the terror and dread in his, which caused my heart to break. I lied to her and said, "Everything's fine, sweetie." He exerted a lot of pressure on my palm as they removed the tubes that were lodged in his throat, causing him to vomit and cough while he begged for air. They fussed over him for a few minutes while he simply held on to my hand as tightly as if his life depended on it.
Because they were going to inform him, and because I was about to witness the breaking of his heart, I felt queasy. Were my defences up to the task of keeping me here when they told him? Could I bear to watch while they tore his heart out without losing it and making the situation even more difficult for him? When Henry's emerald eyes met mine, I knew I had no choice but to remain even though I didn't want to be here.
It would hurt like hell to watch, but I would never abandon him when he needed me. I needed to be strong for him, and I refused to cry because I didn't want to make this situation more difficult for him by showing that I was weak.
I sat on the chair next to his bed while the doctor and nurse glanced at Linda and asked permission to tell him the news in a voice that was audible but not audible to him. They moved forward once more when she gave a sign of approval. Henry did not appear to pay any notice to them; instead, he made a tiny pull on my hand and prompted me to go closer to him.
I managed a feeble smile and briefly brushed my dry, chapped lips to his before drawing away. I noticed that his lips were dry and cracked. I uttered the words "I love you, Henry" in a hushed tone.
He croaked, his voice sounding scratchy and hoarse, "I love you more, Samantha bear," and he smiled that devastating smile that I had missed so much for the past day. "I love you more, Samantha bear." The first words that came out of his mouth seemed to give me butterflies in my stomach since they were the kindest words that have ever been said in the history of the world.
Because of the circumstances, I would never again take a single one of his words for granted; this circumstance had merely made each and every one of them more valuable to me.
The physician swallowed some saliva before speaking. "Henry, we need to talk to you about what happened," he asserted after clearing his throat.
Henry turned away from me in order to gaze at the physician, and after that I was unable to listen; I just couldn't hear anything again. I didn't take my eyes off of his face as I watched a range of emotions flash across his face at such a rapid pace that I could not even register them. There was disorientation, terror, fear, and despair.
He turned his head and stared at me with eyes that begged me to reassure him that everything was going to be alright and that this was either a joke or a lie. I had never seen him appear so helpless and terrified, and it made me despise his parents much more than I already did. I nodded in confirmation as I saw his face droop as he gradually started to accept it.
His hand was clutching mine so tightly that it seemed like he was going to break my fingers, but I just didn't care. His hand was holding mine so tightly that it felt like he was going to break my fingers.
The surgeon wasn't finished talking to him yet; he was still explaining the procedure, how dangerous it was, and going over the patient's odds of recovering successfully from it. Henry's gaze immediately turned to me as we reached the part of the conversation that dealt with the next of kin.
"Samantha, please reassure me that you signed the documents. Please reassure me that they performed the procedure. "Please, please, please tell me," he pleaded, looking at me with an anxious expression.
I gave a slow shake of the head while trying to stifle my dismay at how afraid and hurt he appeared. "I was unable to do it because they wouldn't let me. I mumbled, "I'm not your next of kin," and each syllable seemed like it was on fire as it made its way out of my throat.
He was perplexed as he glanced at me and asked, "Not my next of kin? He spat, looking at me with a bewildered expression, "Of course you are, you're my wife."
I went ahead and extended my hand and gave the side of his face a light stroke. "Henry, our marriage isn't recognised by the state. They wouldn't give me permission to sign it. I am so sorry, sweetie, I tried, and I really wanted to." I quickly turned my attention to Linda with the intention of assassinating her with my eyes since the expression that was currently plastered on Henry's face was one of unadulterated misery and despair, and it was all Linda's fault.
"So, you're saying the operation didn't take place?" Henry asked while maintaining his attention solely on me, oblivious to the presence of everyone else in the room. "I can't walk now? What, this is it?
Because I was at a loss for words, I leaned in close and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead, which caused him to squeeze my hand even more tightly. "Henry, you didn't have the procedure, but if you want to have it now then there's still a chance that it'll work," he said. "If you want to have it now." I then went to the doctor and looked at him as if I needed confirmation before saying, "Right? He still has a chance to get it, don't you think?
He gave a nod and took a step forward before cocking his head to the side and focusing his gaze carefully on Henry. He coughed, evidently trying to attract his attention again, but Henry's eyes were set firmly on me, and the forlorn look on his face gave me more sorrow than I had ever experienced in my life. He tried to catch his attention again by clearing his throat.
"If that's what you want, Henry, I'll have Dr. Shaw come in here and talk to you. He is the operating surgeon who would carry out the procedure. The physician whispered into Henry's ear, "He'll be able to run through things better than me," and lightly touched Henry's arm.
Henry didn't say a word but only nodded and gulped loudly during the conversation. I placed my forehead to his and peered into his eyes, and I saw my same sensation mirrored there; he was afraid, and his eyes were glassy, as if he was trying not to cry. I could see my exact feeling mirrored there.
I brushed my lips lightly on his while murmuring, "I love you."
He lowered his head and gave a slender nod before saying, "You too, Samantha."
"Everything's going to be OK," I murmured, while simultaneously willing my voice to sound more assured than I actually felt. Was it too late to perform the surgery after 27 hours after the doctors' recommendation that it take place as soon as possible? He managed a feeble smile and nod before moving, suffering in pain as he did so. When I saw the expression of agony on his face, I snarled between my teeth, "Don't move, just keep still, and they'll probably give you something for the pain."
He disregarded my recommendation and pulled on my hand, forcing me to come an impossible amount closer. His voice was scarcely audible above a whisper as he questioned, "Our marriage isn't legal, is it?"