The Beginning of Despair 7

"I'm sorry. We did everything we could." The doctor's voice was low, but every word was like a knife viciously gouging into Morel's chest.

How could this happen?

His Claire... was dead?

This morning, his daughter had still been smiling as she waved goodbye to him. How was she now lying on that cold operating table?

Morel's head buzzed, utterly blank.

The doctor patted him on the shoulder and sighed. "My condolences."

Then he turned and left, walking quickly, almost as if he were fleeing.

Morel stood there, staring at the operating room door, at the small, frail body beneath the white sheet on the operating table inside.

He suddenly lunged forward, wanting to see his daughter one last time.

Two nurses held him back tightly, saying things like, "Please calm down," "There are procedures to follow," and "You can't see her yet."

Morel couldn't understand. He only wanted to hold his daughter's hand one more time.

Perhaps the two nurses ultimately couldn't bear it. After symbolically holding him back for a moment, they let go and stepped aside to let him in.

Morel staggered into the operating room. The surgical lights had already been switched off, leaving only a wall lamp that made the entire room look like a faded old dream.

He lifted the white sheet—a familiar face was revealed.

Morel reached out, trembling as he touched his daughter's cheek. The icy sensation instantly shattered the last thread of his sanity.

His daughter really was dead.

His Claire was never coming back.

Tears came pouring out!

This should have been where it ended. It had always ended this way before, but not this time.

Just as Griseo had said: all the colors in the world were inextricably connected.

A resilient father and an optimistic daughter had relied on