The standoff between both parties was at an impasse. Suddenly, the door of the operating room swung open, and a doctor hurried out, followed by more doctors in a steady stream, with nurses trailing behind. Everyone's breathing was barely audible.
Wesley realized that he didn't even dare to listen to the answer.
No matter how he persuaded himself, or how he tried to conceive it, he never truly considered accepting this situation—accepting Xiao Qiao's absence, accepting Xiao Qiao's death.
He wanted to grow old together with Xiao Qiao.
He didn't want his wedding day of joy to turn into Xiao Qiao's demise.
"How is it?" Lu Xiaojiu barely calmed down. The doctor's expression was grave, "Mrs. Lu, I'm sorry, we've done our best. The patient has stopped breathing."
Another doctor, more familiar with Lu Xiaojiu, said, "Please accept our condolences."
