Collision

COLLISION

CHAPTER ONE

It was 8:32 a.m. when I walked out of the building, sweating and taking a deep breath as though I had been running.

No, I hadn't been running. I had just come down six flights of stairs. I lived in the top apartment of a five-storey building without a lift, so this was a normal part of my morning routine.

I started walking towards the public bus station without stopping to catch my breath. If I waited any longer, I would be late for work. My shift started at 9 a.m., and I couldn't afford to arrive late again.

I was wearing black trousers, a long-sleeved top, and the white sneakers I had bought for myself as a graduation gift. My hair was tied into a neat bun, as usual. I had barely applied any lip gloss, but the dry weather had made it necessary.

To be honest, I hated makeup. I found it troublesome, and besides, who had the time for all that in the morning?

I was a medical doctor, after all. I had finally achieved my dream, and I was proud of myself for it.

At 8:40 a.m., I arrived at the bus station. Unfortunately, the bus that had just filled up was already leaving, and the next one was barely half-filled.

I sighed.

There was nothing else to do but wait for the next bus to fill up, so I hurried to the coffee shop beside the station to get my usual hot coffee.

I did this almost every day whenever I missed the first bus.

"Good morning, ma'am!" I greeted the woman behind the counter with a smile.

"Good morning, sweetie. You're going to be late today," she said, smiling as she handed me my coffee without even asking what I wanted.

"Thanks, ma'am."

I handed her the money, which she collected with a smile.

Just as I was about to leave, she called out to me.

"Wait!"

I turned around, wondering what I had forgotten. Instead, she handed me a breakfast bag.

"You young people barely eat breakfast in the morning," she said.

"Thanks, ma'am, but you really don't have to..." I began, but she cut me off.

"Take it, and don't be late for work. I wonder how my granddaughter is doing."

She walked back into the shop before I could say anything else.

"All right," I replied, shaking my head with a small smile.

I appreciated her kindness, even though I couldn't help feeling a little guilty about accepting free food from her so often.

I turned around and hurried out of the shop. It was already 8:50 a.m., and I needed to get moving.

As I made my way towards the bus, I noticed a crowd gathered at the corner of the road. People were murmuring and pointing towards something in the middle of the gathering.

Some looked sympathetic, while others appeared uneasy.

I wasn't the type of person who liked getting involved in other people's affairs, so I decided to mind my business and keep walking.

Quite cool, right?

Well, that was what I thought until I overheard their conversation.

"Was he hit by a car?"

"Is he dead, or did he just faint?"

I stopped.

As a doctor, I couldn't simply walk away from an injured person without at least trying to help.

I turned around and made my way towards the crowd, pushing through the people until I finally saw what everyone was staring at.

A man lay on the ground, his face frighteningly pale. Blood had soaked through the fabric around his injured legs, and he appeared to be in considerable pain.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed, immediately rushing towards him.

"Please, give him some space!"

The people standing closest to him stepped back as I knelt beside the stranger.

I quickly assessed his condition. His leg injuries looked serious, and he had lost a worrying amount of blood. I checked his pulse, my heart pounding as I struggled to determine how stable he was.

He needed urgent medical attention.

I opened my bag and took out the small first-aid kit I carried with me. It contained cotton wool, disinfectant, and iodine. I also had a handkerchief tucked inside.

It wasn't much, but I had to do what I could until he received proper treatment.

I applied pressure to the bleeding areas using the available materials, doing my best to control the bleeding while being careful not to worsen his injuries.

"Someone, please call for an ambulance!" I shouted, looking up at the onlookers.

A few people immediately reached for their phones, while others continued watching.

I couldn't understand why so many people were standing around doing nothing.

The man needed help, not an audience.

I looked towards the bus station. My bus was waiting, and I was already running late for work. But how could I leave this man here when he clearly needed medical attention?

Besides, I worked at a hospital. I knew how important it was to get him there as quickly as possible.

"Please, I need a few people to help me get him to the hospital!" I called out.

Some people hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances, but eventually, a few men stepped forward to help.

Together, we carefully moved the injured stranger into the bus. I made sure he was positioned as comfortably as possible without putting unnecessary pressure on his injured legs.

I climbed in beside him, knowing very well that I was about to have a very long morning.

Throughout the journey, I kept an eye on him, checking his condition whenever I could.

Then I heard a soft moan.

I immediately looked down at him.

His eyes slowly opened, revealing a pair of striking eyes that stared directly into mine. For a moment, he seemed to be studying my face, as though he was trying to memorise it.

I leaned closer.

"Can you hear me? Are you in pain? What's your name?"

He said nothing.

He continued staring at me for a few seconds before closing his eyes again.

"Hey! Can you hear me?"

I gently called out to him again, but he didn't respond.

He had lost consciousness.

I swallowed nervously and looked towards the window, silently praying that we would reach the hospital soon.

---

By 9:30 a.m., we arrived at the hospital.

I immediately arranged for the injured man to be taken into the emergency room, ensuring that the medical staff knew about his injuries and the blood loss.

Once he was in their care, I had to return to my own patients. I was already late, and there was no time to waste.

I could only hope the stranger would be all right.

---

By 12:00 p.m., I had finished attending to my patients and given the nurses on duty the necessary instructions.

I finally had thirty minutes for my lunch break.

As usual, I decided to spend part of it checking on Clara, a little girl who was battling a heart condition.

Her mother was the only person taking care of her. She had been working several jobs to raise enough money for Clara's treatment, yet she still struggled to afford the surgery her daughter desperately needed.

She had even pleaded with doctors to begin treating Clara before she could pay the medical bills in full.

I had seen situations like that in short movies, but witnessing one in real life was entirely different.

Despite everything she was going through, Clara had something many people didn't.

A mother who loved her enough to keep fighting for her.

The moment she saw me enter the ward, her face lit up with excitement.

"Doctor Quinn!" she called, smiling brightly.

I couldn't help smiling back.

"Hello, sweetheart."

I walked over to her bed and turned towards the doctor who was examining her.

"How is her condition?"

"She's recovering well," he replied. "If she undergoes the surgery, she should be fine in no time."

"Oh."

My smile faded slightly as I thought about her mother.

She had been working so hard to raise the money for Clara's surgery, but she still hadn't managed to gather the full amount.

How could someone work so hard and still struggle to afford the one thing their child needed most?

It wasn't fair.

"I'll be leaving now," the doctor said, placing his stethoscope around his neck before walking out of the ward.

Once he was gone, I turned my attention back to Clara.

"How are you feeling today, sweetheart?"

"I'm great! I don't feel any pain."

"That's wonderful!" I said, sitting beside her bed. "Now, you have to be a good girl and stop worrying your mommy, okay? Good things always happen to good people."

I smiled as I spoke, hoping to encourage her.

But deep down, I didn't believe a word of it.

What a hypocrite.

I cursed myself inwardly.

If being good were enough to make someone loved, then my parents would have loved me.

But they hadn't.

They had both moved on with their lives, each building a family of their own. Somewhere along the way, I had become the person neither of them seemed to have room for anymore.

I was the child they had left behind while they created new lives without me.

Growing up, I had learnt not to expect too much from either of them. I had learnt to celebrate my achievements alone, to wipe away my own tears, and to pretend that I didn't mind when important days passed without a phone call or a visit.

When I graduated, I had been proud of myself. I had worked hard to become a doctor, and I had finally achieved the dream I had held onto for years.

But there had been no parents waiting to congratulate me with tears of joy in their eyes.

No warm embrace. No proud smiles.

Just me, standing among other graduates and their families, trying not to notice what I didn't have.

Sometimes, I wondered whether they ever thought about me at all.

Did they remember my birthday? Did they ever wonder if I was eating well or whether I was having a difficult day?

Or had I become so insignificant in their lives that remembering me no longer crossed their minds?

I didn't have the answers.

And perhaps that was what hurt the most.

I had spent years telling myself that I didn't need them. I had built a life for myself, worked towards my dreams, and learnt to stand on my own two feet.

Still, there were moments when the little girl inside me wished she could experience what it felt like to be someone's first choice.

To be loved without having to earn it.

To have someone who would stay, even when life became difficult.

I glanced at Clara and her bright little smile.

Her mother might not have had much money, but she was there. She was fighting for her daughter in every way she could.

And I envied that little girl more than I wanted to admit.

"Doctor Quinn?"

Clara's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I blinked and looked at her.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Are you sad?"

I was taken aback by her question.

"No, darling. Why would you think that?"

"Because you stopped smiling."

For a moment, I didn't know what to say.

Children noticed things adults thought they had hidden well.

I forced a smile and gently brushed a strand of her soft, long blonde hair away from her face.

"I'm fine, Clara. I was just thinking about something."

"Oh."

She accepted my answer and began asking me questions about university life.

Soon, we were chatting and laughing as she asked about all the things she considered cool. I answered her questions, listening to her excited chatter and allowing myself to forget my worries for a little while.

For those few minutes, I wasn't the unwanted daughter who had learnt to live without her parents' love.

I was simply Doctor Quinn, the person Clara looked forward to seeing.

And somehow, that was enough.

Eventually, I glanced at the time and realised my break was almost over.

"Clara, I have to get back to work now."

Her smile faded a little.

"Are you coming back later?"

"Of course, sweetheart. But you need to rest and avoid straining yourself, okay?"

"Sure," she answered, her eyes growing watery.

I couldn't help caressing her soft hair again.

Then I turned towards her mother, who was sitting beside the bed.

"Here, please take this."

I handed her an envelope.

She opened it, and the moment she saw what was inside, she immediately tried to return it.

"Doctor, I can't accept this."

"Please, don't."

"But you've already done so much for us. I can't keep taking your money."

I gently pushed the envelope back towards her.

"It's the little support I have for Clara's heart surgery. Please, let me help. I'll be sad if you return it."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Thank you very much, Doctor Quinn. May God bless you."

I smiled, although I wasn't sure I deserved all the gratitude she was giving me.

"Don't mention it. Just take good care of Clara."

I said goodbye to them both before leaving the ward.

---

I was walking through the hospital hallway when a nurse came running towards me, panting as though she had been chased.

I stopped and looked at her in surprise.

"What's wrong?"

"Doctor Quinn!" she exclaimed, trying to catch her breath.

"Yes? What happened?"

"It's the handsome man you brought to the hospital this morning."

I immediately remembered the stranger with the injured legs.

"What about him? Is he all right?"

"He's awake now, but he won't let anyone examine him. Every time someone tries to touch him, he becomes distressed and refuses to cooperate."

I frowned.

"Did you explain that we're only trying to help him?"

"Yes, Doctor, but he won't listen. He's refusing to let anyone near him."

I sighed, wondering what could possibly be wrong with the man.

Then the nurse added something that made me pause.

"He keeps asking for you, Doctor Quinn. He says you're the only person he wants to see."

I stared at her.

Me?

Why would a stranger who had barely spoken to me on the bus insist on seeing me?

And why wouldn't he let anyone else examine him?

What on earth was his problem?...