Tears of Regret

As soon as Declan arrived at the door of the clean room, his gaze accurately locked onto the slender figure on the operating table.

Clara was so docile, lying there motionless as if she were sound asleep. She was as fragile as a porcelain vessel.

Declan's legs felt as if they were filled with lead. He stood rooted to the ground, not daring to take another step forward. He could not face her death.