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Chapter_208
The operating room had become a quiet, almost sacred place after Yvette’s departure. The once-tense atmosphere outside had shifted dramatically. The doctors, nurses, and even the usually composed Tristan stood in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
As Harold exited the room with wide eyes, his voice trembling with awe, the air thickened with disbelief. The impossibility of it all was still too fresh, too surreal. The blood clot that had been so dangerously lodged in Zachary’s brain—gone. No surgery. No modern intervention. Just acupuncture, performed by a young woman who had barely finished medical school, with no other explanation than the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
“Miracle,” Tristan muttered to himself, almost as if the word had tasted foreign on his tongue. He had seen countless patients, countless procedures, and yet, he had never witnessed something so radical and so… effective.
The others, who moments ago had doubted Yvette’s abilities, now found themselves ashamed and bewildered. Their skepticism, their dismissive remarks about her age and inexperience—all of it had been exposed as the true folly. Yvette had not just performed a procedure; she had defied the very boundaries of what modern medicine claimed was possible.
Lucas, still standing by the hallway, could hardly believe his eyes. “Ms. Chambers did it…” he whispered, disbelief and awe mixing in his voice. He had always believed in her, but now, standing at the precipice of this miracle, his heart swelled with something akin to reverence.
Yvette, on the other hand, remained coolly detached, sending her simple text to Jeremiah, as though this was just another day at the office. A playful smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she awaited his response.
Her confidence, calm demeanor, and now, the confirmation that Zachary had been saved, were all part of a bigger picture. This was not a victory for traditional medicine, nor was it a fight between the old and the new—it was simply the right person using the right tools at the right time.
When Harold rushed over, his initial shock now turning into a nervous excitement, Yvette barely reacted. She had already anticipated this moment. She had known the treatment would work, just as she had known the first time she felt the pulse of her father’s life force slowing—this was never about proving herself, it was about saving him. And, in the end, she had succeeded.
“You really did it, didn’t you?” Harold’s voice was thick with emotion, a strange mix of gratitude and frustration.
Yvette met his gaze with that same cold, calm intensity she always had, but now there was something more—something almost imperceptible, a quiet satisfaction that danced behind her eyes.
“Yes,” she said simply. “The blood clot is gone. Your father is out of danger. But this isn’t over.”
She wasn’t finished. Not yet.
Harold’s excitement was palpable, but Yvette knew better than to celebrate prematurely. Her father’s recovery had just begun, and while the clot had dissolved, the road to full recovery would still require care, attention, and time.
The rest of the room, still processing what had just occurred, found themselves faced with a shift in power—an unspoken acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, Yvette had known something they hadn’t.
Tristan, who had once been so quick to dismiss her approach, now found himself questioning everything he had ever believed about the limits of medicine. The sterile world of facts and numbers seemed, for the first time, incomplete.
As Yvette leaned back in her chair, her phone now quietly buzzing with a response from Jeremiah, she allowed herself a small moment of reprieve. The weight of what she had done settled on her shoulders, but it didn’t weigh her down. Instead, it felt like the quiet strength of someone who had always known she could accomplish what others said was impossible.
Jeremiah, oblivious to the storm of emotions outside, was contentedly getting milkshakes, unaware that Yvette’s simple request for two had already become the symbol of their unshakable trust in each other.
“Make it two,” she had said, and Jeremiah had responded without hesitation, because he understood her in a way no one else did.
The tension in the hallway finally began to lift as more staff approached the room, hesitant but now aware of the truth. Harold, catching sight of the flustered looks on the faces of the doctors who had previously mocked Yvette, allowed himself a grim smile. He had never been more grateful for a moment of humility.
As the door to the operating room remained open, Zachary’s faint, but steady breathing, was the only reminder of how close they had come to losing him. Yet, somehow, against all odds, he was still here.
“Thank you,” Harold murmured to Yvette, his voice low and sincere, the earlier animosity now softened by the realization of what she had achieved.
Yvette didn’t respond immediately. She simply nodded, her eyes reflecting a quiet acknowledgment. She wasn’t interested in thanks. She wasn’t in it for recognition. She was in it for one thing only—saving her father.
And that, in itself, was enough.
Outside, the world of modern medicine might never fully understand what had happened here today, but one thing was certain: the lines between the old and new, science and tradition, had blurred in a way that would leave a lasting impression on everyone who had witnessed it.
Yvette Chambers was not to be underestimated.
And neither was Jeremiah Chavez, whose quiet faith in her had made this miracle possible.
