HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DOC!
“Happy birthday to you...”
Elena heard the song before she fully understood she was awake.
The voice drifted through the softness of sleep, warm and familiar, each note gentle enough to pull her toward the surface without startling her. Her lips curved before her eyes even opened.
She knew that voice.
She had known it for seven years.
Seven years since the first time she had heard it in the halls of St. Gabriel Hospital, back when she was a first-year resident surviving on too little sleep, too much coffee, and sheer stubbornness. She could still remember the strange little jolt that had gone through her the first time that voice had spoken to her.
Seven years of hearing it tease her.
Scold her.
Tell her to eat when she had skipped yet another meal.
Seven years of hearing the same voice murmur, I love you.
The song continued.
“Happy birthday to you...”
Elena’s eyelashes fluttered.
Sleep slipped away all at once.
She opened her eyes.
The first thing she saw was the candle.
A tiny flame flickered in front of her, reflected in the sleepy blur of her vision. Then the cake came into focus, held carefully between two hands.
And behind it was her wife.
She sat on the edge of the bed, smiling so widely that Elena could see the little crease forming beside her eyes. Her hair was slightly mussed, as though she had only just gotten out of bed herself, and the soft morning light caught against her cheek.
Elena pushed herself upright, the sheets gathering around her waist.
For a moment, she simply stared.
The candle trembled as her wife finished the song.
“Happy birthday... happy birthday... happy birthday to you.”
The last note lingered between them.
Her wife nudged the cake closer.
“Go on.”
Elena laughed softly, still thick with sleep.
She leaned forward and blew.
The flame disappeared in a small curl of smoke.
“Happy birthday, love.”
There it was again.
That voice.
That word.
Love.
Elena’s chest tightened pleasantly.
She reached for her wife, already leaning in, already closing the distance between them. Her eyes fell to those familiar lips, and she could almost feel the kiss before it happened.
Then another voice broke through.
“Happy birthday, Doctor.”
Elena froze.
Her eyes blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The cake was still there.
The candle was still burning.
But the woman sitting in front of her was gone.
Elena stared at Patricia.
Patricia stood on the other side of her desk, holding the small birthday cake carefully in both hands. The candle had already been lit, its flame wavering whenever someone shifted nearby. Behind Patricia, several doctors and nurses had gathered inside Elena’s office, filling the usually quiet space with hushed laughter and murmured birthday wishes.
A few balloons floated above the group, their ribbons gathered loosely in someone’s hand. One of the nurses held a small paper banner while another stood beside her, trying not to laugh as it kept slipping from her grasp.
The office was crowded with familiar faces, their smiles bright and expectant.
It should have felt warm.
It should have felt familiar.
Instead, Elena could only stare at the cake.
Her office came back to her slowly.
The dark wood of her desk beneath her forearms.
The computer monitor glowing at her side.
The faint smell of coffee that had gone cold hours ago.
The white coat hanging from the back of her chair.
The stack of patient files she had been reviewing before everyone had suddenly appeared.
And the people.
Her colleagues.
Her residents.
Her nurses.
Patricia.
No bed.
No warm smile.
No woman sitting beside her.
Elena’s fingers curled against the edge of her desk.
The memory had felt so real.
The warmth of the sheets.
The soft morning light.
That smile.
That voice.
Happy birthday, love.
Her chest tightened.
A moment ago, she had been somewhere else entirely.
She had been home.
She had opened her eyes to the woman she had loved for years.
And Elena had reached for her.
She could still remember the anticipation of that kiss.
Then Patricia’s voice had pulled her back.
“Happy birthday, Doctor.”
“Elena?”
Someone laughed softly from the corner.
“She’s speechless,” one of the nurses whispered.
Elena blinked.
Patricia’s smile had begun to fade, replaced by a small crease of concern between her brows.
“Doctor?”
Elena looked at her.
“Yeah.”
Her voice was steady enough.
Barely.
Patricia lifted the cake a little higher.
“Make a wish.”
A few people around the room joined in.
“Make a wish, Dr. Santillán.”
“Come on, Doctor. We have surgery in an hour.”
“Don’t make us stand here all day.”
A faint smile tugged at Elena’s mouth.
She glanced down at the candle.
The little flame flickered in front of her, impossibly bright against the frosting.
For one foolish second, she thought of that morning again.
A birthday song.
Sleepy laughter.
A kiss she never got to finish.
Elena drew in a slow breath.
Then she leaned forward and blew out the candle.
A thin ribbon of smoke curled upward.
Everyone clapped.
Someone cheered.
Patricia finally smiled again.
“Happy birthday, Elena.”
Elena sat back in her chair.
“Thank you.”
She looked around her office at the people gathered there, at the cake, the balloons, the ridiculous banner being held by someone.
They were all smiling at her.
So Elena smiled back.
She had forgotten, just for a moment.
Forgotten that the voice she still heard so clearly belonged to someone who was no longer here.
And perhaps that was the cruelest part.
For one beautiful moment, Elena had remembered what it felt like to wake up loved.
-
A few minutes later, the office began to empty.
One of the residents excused himself to check on a patient. Two nurses gathered their things, already talking about the afternoon schedule. Another doctor stopped at the doorway long enough to remind Elena about the surgery they were preparing for before disappearing down the hall.
The laughter faded with them, leaving the office quieter than before.
Only Patricia remained.
She was still standing near the front of Elena’s desk, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who had supposedly come in to celebrate a birthday.
Elena glanced up from the documents scattered across her desk.
“How about you?” she asked. “What are you still doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be busy?”
Patricia pressed a hand to her chest, looking deeply offended.
“Busy? Elena, please. I’m the director. I decide when I’m busy.”
Elena slowly looked up at her.
“Right. I forgot. How could I possibly forget?”
Patricia smiled smugly.
“See? You’re learning.”
“Learning what? How to abuse your authority?”
“I prefer to call it enjoying the benefits of my position.”
Elena let out a short laugh.
“Look at you, throwing your director privileges around in front of the doctor who actually does all the hard work around here.”
Patricia gasped.
“Excuse me? I provide essential services too.”
Elena raised an eyebrow.
“Such as?”
Patricia held up both hands and wiggled her fingers.
“Looking pretty.”
Elena stared at her.
Patricia continued, completely serious.
“These hands are far too delicate for surgery. It would be a tragedy to expose them to all that hard work.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“So I use them for signing documents, approving budgets, and occasionally making your life difficult.”
Elena snorted and went back to straightening the papers on her desk.
“Your ego definitely wasn’t this bad in med school.”
Patricia leaned back, pleased with herself.
“My ego was always this good. You just didn’t have to call me ‘Director’ back then.”
Elena paused.
She looked up slowly.
“Power really did change you.”
“Oh, please.” Patricia pointed at her. “You benefited from that power too. Who do you think made sure you got those residency rotations?”
Elena opened her mouth.
Stopped.
Then sighed.
“Okay. Fine. That’s fair.”
Patricia’s grin widened.
“I’ll take that apology.”
“That wasn’t an apology.”
“I heard what I needed to hear.”
Elena shook her head, but a laugh slipped out anyway.
For a moment, the weight that had settled over the morning seemed a little lighter.
Patricia eventually pulled out the chair in front of Elena’s desk and sat down.
“Now,” she said, settling in comfortably, “since we’ve established that I’m powerful, beautiful, and underappreciated—”
“Only one of those is true.”
Patricia blinked.
“Which one?”
“Elaborately underappreciated.”
Patricia laughed.
“See? This is why I keep you around.”
Elena rolled her eyes, but the smile lingering on her lips gave her away.
Patricia let the moment settle before leaning back in her chair.
“Anyway,” she said, her tone turning casual, “any plans today?”
Elena raised an eyebrow.
“I can reserve a private booth at Eclipse. You know, our usual. Good food, drinks, no hospital talk.”
Elena leaned back slightly.
“Yeah, you can—”
Her phone chimed.
The sound was ordinary.
Just one notification.
Yet Elena stopped mid-sentence.
Her hand moved toward the phone almost automatically.
The screen lit up.
She glanced down, expecting another message from a colleague or perhaps a birthday greeting from one of her relatives.
Instead, there was a name she hadn’t seen appear on her screen in a year.
Her breath caught.
She unlocked the phone.
The message was short.
Let’s meet tonight. 6 PM at Bloom Cafe.
Elena read it once.
Then again.
Her fingers went still around the phone.
The office seemed to fall strangely quiet.
A year.
A full year of silence.
And now, on her birthday, a message.
From her.
Corinne.
Elena’s thumb hovered uselessly over the screen.
Her chest tightened, and she swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat.
She had imagined this moment before.
In idle seconds between surgeries. In the quiet of her home. Sometimes when sleep refused to come.
She had imagined a hundred different versions of what it might feel like to see her again.
None of those imagined moments had prepared her for three lines on a phone screen.
“Hey.”
Patricia’s voice made Elena look up.
“What now?” Patricia asked. “Should I book a reservation?”
Elena stared at her for a moment.
Her mind was still caught somewhere between the message and the life she had been living without it.
“I-I can’t.”
Patricia’s eyebrows lifted.
“I have somewhere to go tonight.”
The words felt strange leaving her mouth.
Patricia studied her face, clearly noticing something Elena wasn’t saying. But she didn’t push.
“Fine.” She stood and picked up her bag. “But text me if you change your mind.”
Elena nodded.
Patricia reached the door, then turned around.
“Happy birthday again, my dear bestie.”
She smiled.
Elena managed one in return.
“Thanks.”
The door clicked shut.
Silence settled over the office.
Elena remained at her desk, phone still in her hand.
The screen had dimmed, but she could summon the message without looking.
Six o’clock.
Bloom Cafe.
Her thumb slowly traced the edge of the phone.
For a long moment, she didn’t move.
She didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh, cry, throw the phone across the room, or get up and go there right now.
She only knew one thing.
After a year of silence, Corinne had finally spoken to her again.
And Elena had no idea what she was supposed to do with that.
