My leg twitches uncontrollably. I check my phone. It's almost two-thirty p.m. Three hours. The nurse said the procedure takes about three hours. It's been three hours and twenty minutes.

I get up and start pacing around the green waiting area, tracing the perimeter of the room. Twice. Three times. I sit down opposite the lifts, and I wait. I check my phone. Two thirty-four. Two thirty-four and no messages. No calls. Nothing.

The door of the Gynae ward opens and two young nurses walk out. One of them is Romina, Millie's nurse. I stand up.

"I'm sorry, qalbi, they haven't called us yet," Romina says.

It's like someone's punctured my heart with a safety pin. "But is everything okay?"

The lift arrives and the other nurse steps in to hold it while she waits for Romina. "I should think so. They would tell us if something went wrong," she answers kindly. "It hasn't been that long, qalbi. There's no reason for you to worry. They wouldn't have started the procedure immediately. And she has to spend about another hour in the Recovery Room after they wake her. We can't bring her up before she's fully recovered from the anaesthetic."

I look blankly at her. I know she's right but I'm worried. I want to know she's okay.

"Okay," I nod. "Sorry for keeping you."

Romina smiles at me and joins her friend in the elevator. I check my phone again. Two thirty-six. No texts. No calls. 

I plop myself on the chair again and as soon as I do, my phone begins to vibrate. I answer it without even checking who it is.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ally, is Mills ready?" Sosa's voice says.

My heart drops a good few inches from its original position. I feel like crying. I put my face in my hands, trying to keep it together. "No," I answer. "I just spoke to her nurse and she said there's nothing to worry about. It's normal that it takes this long."

I hear her sigh at the other end. "Okay. Well, I'm leaving home now. I'll be there very soon, okay?"

I shake my head and put my phone down for a second. I really appreciate Sosa's support through all this but I'm not in a state to be around people. I can't bear to sit still and I get dizzy as soon as I stand up. My tummy is rumbling with hunger and yet the thought of food makes me sick. I'm scared to wait here by myself but I'm really not in the mood to talk to anyone. I hear Sosa's voice asking if I'm still on the line. I look at the screen. No new messages.

"Okay," I say finally into the phone. "I'll see you soon."

The doors of the lift open and Romina and her colleague appear with their lunches in hand. They smile kindly as they walk past me and back to the ward. I start pacing again, but no matter how many laps I do, it's not enough to outrace the thoughts in my head.

He didn't call. He didn't answer my texts. He didn't talk to me at all. Not on the way home. Not when he dropped me off at the end of the alley. I myself couldn't even breathe out his name let alone speak. My chest is still bruised from hearing the car roar off as soon as I closed the door. And he didn't reply later when I texted him after staring at my bedroom ceiling for a whole hour, my brain numb and neurotic at the same time.

'What if something happened to him?' that nasty voice in my head hisses. There was no drifting, no wild stunts on our way back from the beach, but he didn't stop at the red lights either. He wasn't checking mirrors or blind spots. He didn't take his eyes off the road at all.

I texted him again this morning to let him know Millie and I were on our way to the hospital. I tried calling him when Millie was settled in her room to tell him the name of the ward and how to find it, but he didn't pick up. So, I texted him the details instead, asking him to reply so I could put my mind at rest that he was okay. Nothing. I tried calling again when they took Nanna Millie down to the Operating Room. And again, while I was waiting. Nothing.

I'm ashamed of how needy I feel. I have never wanted to talk to a guy so much. I have never wanted to talk to a guy at all. But this is Jeremy. Jeremy is not just a guy. He's my friend. And I need to know that I can still call him that after yesterday.

Fuck. What the fuck happened yesterday? And why the fuck is he avoiding me like this? 

I can almost hear him reprimand me for my strong language as though he were right here. I sit back down, my leg twitching furiously. I close my eyes and pray that I'm just being paranoid and that he's okay. And Millie. Why isn't she ready yet? God, please let Millie be okay!

The ward door opens again. Romina holds it open and a healthcare worker comes out pushing an empty bed.

"The theatre just called," she announces. "We're going down for her now."

"Oh, thank God!" I reply, feeling the weight of ten elephants being lifted off my shoulders.

The elevator doors open and Sosa comes out looking flustered and struggling beneath a large bag and a colourful bouquet of flowers.

"Sosa," I greet running up to her to give her a hand. "She's ready! They're going to get her now!"

Sosa smiles at Romina as the doors of the lift close shut. "Perfect!" she replies happily. "Come on then. Let's go put these in her room."

I take the bag from her and we walk in together, arm in arm. After a very long ten minutes, Romina's face appears behind the curtain.

"Look who's back!" she chants in a cheery voice.

I immediately focus on Nanna's face. She's awake. She's smiling! It's a weak smile but it's beautiful just the same. There's a green oxygen mask next to her head on the pillow but it's not attached to anything. She has two IV lines coming out of a needle in her left arm. One of them leads to a clear bag hung on the drip stand that's attached to the bed. The other leads to a large plastic syringe which seems to be controlled by a pumping device.

A morphine pump. My mother had one after she had her mastectomy. I notice two other pipes coming out from under the bed sheets. Each one is attached to a bag. One of them is half full of urine. The other contains a small amount of reddish fluid. The urine catheter and the drain. My mother hated drains. 

I take a deep breath. I need to stay in the present.

Romina and her colleague park the bed in its place. The carer closes the curtains for privacy and Romina attaches the morphine pump to the drip stand. "Everything went well. She is stable and fully awake, right, Emily?" Romina explains in a clear, patient voice.

Millie reaches out and I squeeze her hand and kiss it. The carer reappears behind the curtain with a blood pressure machine. She wraps the cuff around Millie's arm and presses the button.

"Are you comfortable, Emily?" Romina asks as she lifts the sheets to check Millie's dressings.

"Yes, dear," Nanna Millie croaks.

"Good," Romina answers leaning over the bed. "Now, where is the magic button I told you about?" Millie lets go of my hand and searches amongst the sheets until she finds a small remote with a single green button on it. I see it leads to the pump that's holding the syringe. "Brava," Romina says cheerfully. "Now remember, the pump won't give you any more painkillers than what is safe for you, okay? So, don't be afraid to press it."

Millie nods and gives her a cheeky wink. The nurse checks the blood pressure result and removes the cuff. "Blood pressure is fine. No eating and drinking until we tell you, alright? Just rest for now." Then she turns to us and says, "I'm sorry, qalbi, but those flowers can't stay. They cultivate bacteria and the last thing she needs is an infection."

"But I brought them to cheer her up!" Sosa protests.

"Well, she won't be happy if her wound gets infected," Romina retorts reproachfully.

"That's alright, honey," Millie says from her bed. Her voice is slow and groggy. "They have a beautiful Madonna in the kitchenette. Can you put them there? I'll be just as happy."

"Okay," Sosa answers sombrely, picking up the flowers and carrying them out of the room. Romina and the carer follow her out and I turn back to my Millie. 

"How do you feel?" I ask her.

Millie searches for my hand again. I give it to her quickly. "Good. My tummy hurts a little and my throat is sore. My mouth is so dry," she chuckles softly. "And I can't move with all this stuff coming out of me. But other than that, I feel fine."

I beam at her, quickly wiping away a stray tear. Sosa comes back and opens the curtains. "Why the hell are these closed? There's no one else in the room! How are you, Mills?"

Millie laughs a little but then winces and stops. "Never better," she replies.

I check my phone again. Still nothing. After a moment's deliberation, I halfheartedly send off another text. Whatever is going on, I'm sure he'll want to know Millie's okay at some point.

She's back. She's fine.

I plop myself onto the armchair, feeling more drained than ever and Sosa grabs the chair that belongs to the vacant bed. Millie falls in and out of sleep. I try to do the same. My eyes are burning with exhaustion. Sosa is playing on her phone. The door opens and my head snaps up, but it's only Carmen carrying a large shopping bag.

"Millie?" she says in a very soft, very concerned tone. "Millie, can you hear me?"

The three of us start laughing, amused by her sweet, innocent approach, Millie wincing in pain. She presses the green button. "Carmen, aqtagħha! You'll get me high on morphine!"

Carmen looks at her horrified. "I'm so sorry! I'll just go back, I'm sorry!" She turns and pushes her bag onto my lap. "I got her some water and some broth for later and some jelly," she whispers urgently, her brown eyes big and round.

I smile kindly at her. "She's just joking, Carmen. You can stay. Come, sit here."

She gives me a grateful smile and walks cautiously closer to Millie's bed while I scoot past her to place the bag on the table.

The door opens again. It's him. I know it's him before I even turn around. Our eyes lock momentarily before his drop to his feet. His hands shoot straight into his pockets and his face turns to stone. 

"Mr Cordina," Millie sighs, her face lighting up. "You didn't have to come. I know you're very busy!"

Jeremy clears his throat and walks past me, straight to the other side of the bed. "I'm never too busy for you, Millie," his rumbling voice says soothingly. "How are you?"

My stomach does a three-sixty somersault. It physically hurts to look at him and I'm not sure why. I feel relieved and angry and, for some reason, scared, like a child waiting outside the principal's office after being at the wrong end of a fistfight. I hold my breath, hoping the pressure will stop my lungs from collapsing. I try to block out the sound of his voice, to stop it from making me sick as it aggravates the overwhelming cocktail of emotions building up inside me.

He's fine. He's perfectly fine. His fingers don't look injured. So, what the hell stopped him from picking up the phone? And why is he still ignoring me?

I walk to the only window in the room and try to focus on what's going on outside. There are a few people in the yard below. Some are laughing. Some are carrying heavy bags. Some pushing a relative or a friend in a wheelchair. But his voice booms sharply in my ears.

"Okay, well I guess, I'll be on my way. Glad you're feeling okay, Millie. Take care."

"Thanks again for coming, dear," Millie replies.

I turn around in time to see him walking around the bed. His eyes flicker in my direction but, realising that I'm looking at him, he quickly looks away and heads straight for the door. It shuts behind him and I stare at it for a few seconds. Then without thinking, I jolt into action and rush out after him.