The knock is softer this time, but Cas still startles.

His hips tense reflexively.

The sudden contraction sends a brutal surge of pain through his groin.

It feels like something twisting hot and sharp deep inside him.

He whimpers immediately, a thin, broken sound.

Gillie tightens her hold. “Easy—easy.”

Dr. Faille enters with Petra just behind him.

Faille’s expression is composed, but serious. He steps closer to the bedside, keeping his voice low and even.

“Caspar,” he begins gently, “we’ve reviewed the ultrasound.”

Cas’s breath catches.

His heart pounds hard in his chest.

Faille continues, steady and clinical but not unkind. “Your left testicle has suffered irreversible torsion. The blood supply has been compromised. It cannot be salvaged.”

The words seem to echo.

Irreversible.

Cannot be salvaged.

Cas feels something drop inside him—heavy and final.

His eyes immediately fill with tears.

He turns his face toward Gillie.

She is already looking at him.

“It’s okay, honey,” she says softly, brushing his curls back from his forehead.

He swallows hard.

His voice trembles. “They… they have to take it?”

Faille nods once.

“Yes. The surgery needs to be performed as soon as possible to prevent infection and further complications.”

Cas’s mind feels slow, thick with pain and exhaustion.

He’s had procedures all day.

He’s vomited.

He’s shaken.

And now—

Surgery.

Another loss.

Another part of his body failing.

His throat tightens.

“I don’t want to,” he whispers.

“I know,” Faille says calmly. “But this is the safest course. You’ll be under anesthesia. You won’t feel the procedure itself.”

The reassurance helps only a little.

Cas feels small in the bed.

Vulnerable in a way that is deeper than physical exposure.

Gillie presses her forehead gently to his.

“I’m going to be with you right up until they take you in,” she murmurs. “And I’ll be there when you wake up.”

He nods faintly, though tears spill freely now.

Faille gives Petra a brief nod.

“We’ll prep him immediately.”

Then he steps out to coordinate the operating room.

Petra moves closer to the bed.

“Caspar, I need to prepare the surgical site. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

She lowers the blanket carefully.

The cool air brushes over his swollen groin again.

He gulps in air and looks at Gillie with open apprehension.

His eyes are wide.

Childlike.

Unshielded.

Gillie leans down and kisses his temple.

“I’m here.”

Petra works with quiet efficiency.

She explains each step before she does it.

“I’m just going to remove the hair from your groin so the area stays sterile.”

Even the light touch of her gloved hands makes his testicles throb painfully.

When she begins the careful clipping, the vibration and minimal movement still send sharp reminders of how inflamed and tender the area is.

He whimpers despite her gentleness.

His abdomen tightens reflexively.

Gillie steadies him so he doesn’t curl forward.

“Breathe,” she whispers into his hair.

Tears slide silently down his temples.

The idea that part of him is dying inside his body—

That it has to be removed—

Makes him feel hollow.

Like he is being reduced piece by piece.

Petra works quickly to minimize discomfort.

She keeps pressure light.

Finishes as efficiently as possible.

“All done,” she says softly.

She covers him again with the blanket, tucking it securely around his hips.

The modesty, small as it is, brings a flicker of comfort.

Then she unlocks the bed wheels.

The sound clicks loudly in the quiet room.

Cas’s chest tightens.

This is real.

Gillie stays right beside him as Petra begins guiding the bed down the hallway toward the operating room.

The ceiling lights pass overhead again.

The motion makes his swollen testicle shift painfully in the diaper.

He winces.

His fingers search weakly for Gillie’s hand.

She takes it immediately.

“I’m right here.”

His breathing is shallow.

His head still aches faintly.

His groin throbs heavily between his legs.

He feels fragile beyond words.

Exposed.

About to lose something he never imagined losing.

“Will I be…” he swallows, voice barely audible. “Will I still be me?”

Gillie squeezes his hand firmly.

“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “You will still be you.”

They reach the double doors leading to the surgical area.

Petra slows the bed.

A nurse inside prepares to receive him.

Gillie leans down, brushing her lips over his forehead one more time.

“You are so strong,” she whispers.

He doesn’t feel strong.

He feels terrified.

Small.

But he holds her hand as long as he possibly can.

Until they gently guide him through the doors where he will be sedated—