chapter 12

Sebastian’s POV

As Zara was being wheeled into OR 3, lines were being attached and oxygen cannula fixed.

A couple burst through, eyes wide opened, breathless and confused, they almost collided with the stretcher.

The woman gasped. “Oh my God, that’s her?”

Dr. Lennox turned at the sound of her voice.

“You are right in time Mrs. Garvin.”

Lily looked at me confused.

Mrs. Garvin moved closer, eyes fixed on Zara’s stomach, “Doctor, what’s happening? Are the babies OK?”

“The surrogate is having seizures,” Dr. Lennox said quickly. “Her blood pressure is dangerously high. We need to move the babies now.”

She grabbed the doctor's arms. “And the twins? Are they breathing? Are they okay?”

“I won’t know until they’re out,” she answered. “We’re monitoring their heart beat. At the moment, they’re unstable.”

“Dr. Lennox, don’t explain. Act quickly.” I said.

“If the babies are unstable, call for neonatal ventilation support. Don’t stand here discussing the problem, fix it.”

“Zara is unconscious, having seizures, do get her to safety first.”

The doctor looked at me, then nodded quickly.

“Yes. Understood. I’ll move now.”

“Just save them,” the woman whispered harshly as she stepped closer to the stretcher “Please. Just save our babies.”

Not a single question about Zara’s health and condition.

The woman was just concerned about the babies.

Lily noticed.

So many thoughts run through my mind.

Surrogate.

Twins.

I stood still wondering what made Zara to become a surrogate, risking her life.

Lily stood close to me sobbing.

We followed them until the red safety line stopped us.

The doors swung shut.

The room was filled with the doctor's commands.

“Start magnesium sulfate!”

“Get fetal heart tracing up. Twin A decelerating!”

“Twin B irregular, prep for emergency C-section!”

Lily had her hands over her face.

“She told me she felt dizzy this morning… I should’ve brought her in earlier.” she said.

I didn’t move. I felt pity for her. I felt hurt. I stared at the OR window as if I could force it open with willpower alone.

Mrs. Garvin paced, she was so restless.

“I can’t lose them. We… we’ve waited for years.” she kept on saying.

Her husband held her tightly.

I felt pity for her.

Inside the OR, the tension grew.

“Twin A is still dropping!”

“Blood pressure 195/120, push meds!”

“Incision ready, move!”

My heart was beating faster with every command.

A NICU team arrived, rolling two warmers toward the OR doors.

“Thirty-six weeks,” a nurse said quickly. “They may breathe on their own, but be ready for CPAP support.”

Mrs. Garvin broke when she heard that.

“They’re coming early… they weren’t supposed to come yet.” she said to her husband.

“What matters is they come alive,” her husband murmured, voice trembling.

Minutes later.

“Twin A delivered!”

Weak crying.

Then a louder call:

“Airway support, get CPAP!”

“Twin B out!”

Another weak cry.

Relief mixed with panic in everyone waiting.

The NICU team rushed the twins out in warmers. Alive but breathing fast. Mrs. Garvin let out a sob of relief at the sight of the twins.

“They’re okay… they’re okay right?”

“They need monitoring,” the neonatologist said, “but they’re responding. Thirty-six weeks is good. We’ll take them to NICU for stabilization.”

The intended parents followed their newborns down the hall, whispering prayers as tears rolled down their faces.

I stayed rooted in place. Thinking about my life.

I didn’t know why I felt strange seeing those babies. I felt this sharp pain under my ribs.

I had longed for a child. Yet I couldn't have one. I felt pain and regret.

Then Dr. Lennox stepped out, mask pulled down.

Lily rushed to her.

“How is she?”

“She’s alive,” the doctor said carefully. “Her seizures have stopped, but she hasn’t regained consciousness.

The eclampsia hit suddenly and hard. We managed to stabilize her, but her blood pressure is still high and she’s not responding yet.”

“God, Zara…” Lily said quietly.

“We’ll move her to the recovery ICU,” the doctor continued. “The next twenty-four hours are critical.”

As they rolled Zara past, unconscious and pale, fear gripped me, I felt like crying.

Seeing her like that, helpless, fighting for her life, it broke me. I didn’t know why I cared so much about her, I just wanted her to be alive.

I didn’t say a word, but Dr. Lennox glanced at me and seemed to read the expression.

“I’ll update you the moment anything changes,” she said quietly.

I only nodded.

Because I couldn’t speak.

I didn’t know why losing her suddenly felt like a possibility I couldn’t bear.

Lily and I walked slowly behind the team, unable to leave.

I had met Zara in the hospital only by accident, but now, seeing her pale form wheeled past unconscious, I was scared of losing her and could only imagine the pain she had been through.

Lily moved closely, whispering to the nurse, asking for updates.

But me, I barely heard her words. My mind replayed the OR scene: the monitors dropping, the twins’ cries as they were rushed to the NICU.

My suit was already wrinkled, my tie loosened, but none of that mattered.

I was angry that I couldn't do anything to make her conscious or help relieve her of her pains.

I had spent decades running companies, making decisions that affected thousands. Yet right now, I was at the mercy of doctors and nurses.

“You’re not allowed in,” Lily reminded me gently, as we got to the door of the room.

“I don’t care,” he muttered, standing abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I need to know how she's doing at all times.”

A nurse gave me a cunning look. “We’ll inform you the moment she responds.”

And yet, beneath my fear and fury, something else was triggered.

An urge of protectiveness I hadn’t realized I could feel for someone like Zara. She wasn’t mine, yet my heart ached from her pains as if the threat to her life was a threat to me.

I stopped pacing, and leaned against the wall, I could hear the twins’ cries echoing faintly from the NICU.

I hadn’t known this kind of anxiety, that this kind of helpless fear could exist. CEOs, powerful men, men with influence and wealth, they never felt it. But I did.