the surgical doors closed behind her, claustrophobia tightened around her chest.
Laura noticed her trembling hands. “We can step outside, Mariana.”
Mariana shut her eyes.
She remembered Lucía as a teenager, teasing her because Mariana always modestly described herself as “just a doctor.”
“Someday you’ll realize that saving a life is never ‘just’ anything, Mom,” Lucía had told her.
Mariana opened her eyes, drew a steady breath, and adjusted her surgical mask. “No. I’m staying.”
And she did.
First ten minutes.
Then an hour.
Eventually, an entire four-hour procedure.
Three