Chapter 1
“Careful now,” I said, sliding my hand under her elbow. The patient, a young woman in her twenties and about six months pregnant, wobbled as she tried to rise from the examination table.
Her partner… well, he's there alright. Glued to his phone, completely oblivious.
I steadied her, letting her weight press lightly into my arm. She had a small frame, delicate but steady under my support, with curly red hair that stopped just above her neck, soft and lively against her collar. A floral dress clung gently to her, bright and airy against the clinical sterility of the room. And her smile… wide and genuine, it carved little laugh lines into her cheeks, subtle marks that made her exude warmth.
"Take it slow when you stand,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “Your center of gravity has shifted. Support your back, wear comfortable shoes, and rest whenever you feel dizzy.”
She nodded, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks. I will keep that in mind."
She called out his name for the second time. When he looked at her she added, "Jason please help me with my bags." She was so patient with him. "He’s distracted today, but he’s up for a big promotion at work. You know how it is.”
I offered a small, tight-lipped smile. “I do. But don’t let his ambitions become your excuse for being overlooked. You’re carrying life inside you — that deserves attention too.”
Before she could respond, her husband cleared his throat. “I promise, I’ll take good care of her, doc,” he said quickly, his voice laced with forced sweetness.
I raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting him speak. Some men… always trying to smooth over what they miss. She nodded at him, but not quite sold on it.
"You’re right… I’ll make sure to speak up more, Dr. Hart” she said then lightly slapped his cheek.
We exchanged a few more pleasantries before they headed for the door. I watched them leave, then hung my white coat neatly on the rack, the fabric falling in a crisp line.
Loosening my black hair from its bun, it tumbled over my shoulders, silky and freeing then turned back to my desk, flipping open my patient notes. Fingers moving automatically, I began jotting down observations.
"Hey, doc. I'll be going now. I'll just leave the door unlocked."
Claire, my assistant, is twenty-five and leaving for university in three months. I’ll have to start looking for her replacement soon. Still, I can’t help but feel proud—she’s chasing what she’s always wanted.
"Thank you. Have a great night," I waved at her.
"Say hello to hubby for me."
"And to your boyfriend as well. You look gorgeous as if going to a date," I said eyeing her flowy midi skirt and long sleeves paired with pink bubble gum lips.
She blushed. "Oh, he's just a friend. Bye, doc"
My gaze landed on something familiar beside my pen — my diamond engagement ring, catching the soft glow of the desk lamp. The ring was perfect: a solitaire, brilliant-cut diamond set in a thin platinum band, its clarity sharp enough to pierce the sterile light of the room.
Beside it sat a photo of Daniel and me, smiling at the camera during one of our rare weekends off from med school.
I traced the edge of the ring lightly with my thumb, feeling the smooth coldness of the metal and the weight of the stone.
A simple piece of mineral, and yet it made me feel valuable. Loved. Important. Weeks had passed since he proposed, but my excitement hadn’t dulled.
Daniel had been swamped with seminars, hospital rounds, endless meetings. He had just returned home, exhausted but still thoughtful enough to text me: Dinner tonight? I brought take outs from Bianco.
I quickly typed back, Dinner sounds perfect, then set my phone aside and returned to my notes. The office was quiet now. The sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the desk.
It was already past seven, and most of the day’s patients had gone home, leaving only the hum of the fluorescent lights.
Daniel came from a well-off family. While I had fought tooth and nail to earn scholarships, juggling part-time jobs and endless hours in the library just to keep my place in med school. His tuition had been fully financed by his parents.
In fact, his family owned the very hospital where we had done our residencies. But he never made me feel small or indebted.
If anything, he admired the drive that had carried me from a dirt-poor childhood to this very moment where life literally rested in my hands.
Despite the disparities in our upbringing, despite the long hours and sacrifices, we had built something real. Something that belonged to us.
I returned to my notes, steady and focused, letting the rhythm of work settle me.
