My hand shakes, and I have to steady it with my other hand. I force my voice to be calm. “Where?”
“Bottom right corner.”
The ink scratches against the paper. My name. My consent. My choice.
The doctor’s voice is warm, but firm. “The surgery will take a few hours. You will be under anesthesia. When you wake up, you’ll still have the bandages on for at least two days. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Doctor,” I say, trying to sound braver than I feel.
Rowan leans closer. “I’ll be here the whole time. You’ll be fine, Elara.”
I nod. I have to be fine.
They wheel me into the operating room. The air smells faintly of disinfectant. I hear the metallic clink of tools being arranged, the low hum of machines. A nurse touches my hand.
“You’re safe,” she whispers.
The anesthesia takes me quickly.
When I wake, everything is muffled. My head feels heavy, and there’s a burning sensation under the bandages. My throat is dry.
Rowan’s voice is the first thing I hear. “You’re awake. The surgery went well. Doctor said the donor cornea was perfect.”
“It… hurts,” I whisper.
“That’s normal. Just rest.”
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