How is she?” I ask, my voice rough, desperate.

The doctor looks tired but gives a small nod. “She’s stable,” he says. “The bullet missed her heart, but it was close. She’s out of danger now, but she needs rest. A lot of it.” He informs us.

Relief hits me like a wave, and I let out a shaky breath, tears burning my eyes. The fear and guilt that had been eating me throughout the surgery lessens and I suddenly feel like I can finally breathe.

“Thank you,” I ...