A Finger, A Fire, A Farewell

My name is Isabelle Bertrand, and I have been married to Lucien Pitt for five years. He is the deputy director at City First Hospital, young and accomplished, regarded by others as the model husband. We have a three-year-old daughter named Lillian. Lillian is soft and tender; when she smiles, two shallow dimples appear. The person who loves her most is my mother. Lucien Pitt has a junior apprentice sister named Catherine Knight. Catherine Knight is the daughter of Lucien Pitt's late mentor, and Lucien has always cared for her as if she were his own sister. After graduating, Catherine Knight joined City First Hospital as a pediatrician, working alongside Lucien Pitt. When Lillian was three years old, she suddenly developed acute appendicitis and required emergency surgery. Lucien Pitt was the lead surgeon at the operating table, with Catherine Knight assisting him. I paced anxiously back and forth outside the operating room, my palms slick with sweat. My mother sat on the bench, hands clasped tightly, murmuring prayers continuously, pleading for Lillian's safety. The surgery lasted over an hour before the door finally swung open. Lucien Pitt walked ahead, his face darkened with a terrifying gloom. Catherine Knight followed behind, her eyes red-rimmed and unable to meet my gaze. A chill ran through me as I rushed forward and seized Lucien Pitt's arm. "Lucien, how is Lillian?" Lucien Pitt pressed his lips together, remaining silent for a long moment. Catherine Knight collapsed to her knees before me with a thud, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Isabelle, I'm sorry. It's my fault." The unease in my heart grew ever stronger as I pressed her to reveal what had actually happened. Lucien Pitt finally spoke in a hoarse voice. "During the surgery, Catherine lost focus and accidentally cut the wrong place." My mind went completely blank as I stared at him, demanding to know what had been cut. "Lillian's finger was severed." Those words struck my heart like a heavy hammer. I stumbled backward several steps, nearly falling. My mother lunged forward, grabbing Lucien Pitt by the collar and shouting at him for an explanation. When Lillian was brought out, her left hand was wrapped in thick gauze. The gauze was stained with faint blood, and it shattered my heart to see it. The doctor said the nerves and blood vessels in her finger were severed and could not be reconnected, meaning Lillian would have to live with a disability for the rest of her life. I stayed by the hospital bed, watching Lillian's sleeping face, tears streaming uncontrollably. She was only three years old, not yet having had the chance to truly see the world, and now had to endure such suffering. The more my mother thought about it, the angrier she became, insisting that we must sue Catherine Knight and make her pay. I did not oppose it; Catherine Knight's mistake destroyed Lillian's entire life. That morning, my mother carried the prepared documents, saying she was going to the court to submit the complaint. I warned her to be careful on the road, watching her leave the ward. But I waited the entire morning and still did not see my mother return. Unease welled up inside me as I called her, but there was no answer. Just as I was about to go out and look for her, the traffic police called. On the phone, they told me my mother had been in a car accident and was receiving emergency treatment at the hospital. A chill ran through me as I staggered toward the scene of the accident.