The blood drained from Denis's face. His knees wobbled as dread coiled like a stone in his stomach. "What do you mean? This—this is a big hospital. How could you say that?"
"At his age, the attack was too much for him to withstand," the doctor explained with regret. "His body is far too weak to undergo surgery. We tried stabilizing him to see if a procedure was possible, but… it isn't. In this condition, we couldn't operate."
He put a hand on Denis's shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face. "These are his final moments. Go to him. There isn't much time left."
The world tilted under Denis's feet. His chest ached as if knives were driving into it, tears blurring his vision. He pushed past the others and stumbled into the operating room.
The sight froze him in place.
