“Areyoucertainaboutthisprocedure?”Thedoctor’svoicecarriedagravitythatunderscoredthefinalityofthedecision.“Iam，”cametheunwaveringreply.Lyingonthesteriletable，LinYueblinkedagainsttheharshoverheadlights，eachblinkcastinghermindbacktomomentsnowtaintedwithsorrow.Memories，oncesweetandjoyous，nowturnedintovenomousbarbs，eachrecollectionapiercingstabofbetrayal.Whatoncewasasourceofblisshadbecomeawellspringofagony. Jonathan，Yolanda