Azalea
After a few more minutes, the nurses came to take Amira to the operating room. I kissed her forehead and told her I loved her.
“Thank you,” I said to Adriano as soon as we were alone in the waiting room. I bowed my head low. “Thank you for this miracle.”
“What are you doing?” Adriano asked, his voice sharp with worry. “Don’t bow to me. Please.”
Tears started falling down my face. “I have to thank you,” I sobbed. “You don’t understand. Since our parents died, I’ve been working day and night just to keep her alive. I sold everything we owned. I worked as a mall attendant in the morning, a waitress at night, and a babysitter on weekends. But it was never enough.”
I pointed to the red sign on the operating room door that said “Surgery in Progress.”
“Right now, they’re saving her l
