He paced behind the team until they reached the double doors of the operating theater. When they swung shut, he stopped, nose pressed to the gap as if trying to understand why he couldn’t follow. Elena lingered a second, hand brushing the doorframe. “Wait here for her,” she said. “She’ll come back.”
Inside, the procedure moved fast. Gastric pumping. Warm saline. Antidote prep. Elena’s focus narrowed to numbers—oxygen saturation, pulse, pressure. Beneath the bright lights, the little girl looked smaller than ever. “Almost done,” the anesthetist whispered. “She’s fighting.” Elena smiled faintly. “Strong-willed like her rescuer.”