Chapter 3

The door opened.

Adrian walked in. His eyes swept the gift boxes scattered across the floor and his brow creased instantly.

"Now what?"

"Getting my suitcase."

"It's a suitcase. Is this really necessary?"

He bent down and started picking things up. Every motion sharp with barely contained anger.

"Fine. Take it."

"September sixteenth. Wedding's still on. Honeymoon gets pushed."

"I need to get Sophie and her mom settled in New York. Sophie can't handle a sick parent and fellowship orientation alone."

"Three days, tops. Won't affect the wedding."

He picked up a crushed wedding favor and finally lost it.

"So one career opportunity doesn't go your way and you're calling off the whole wedding?"

"Lena, when did you become such a sore loser?"

"Her father's dead. Her mother's falling apart."

"You have a job. You have a home. You have me."

"What the hell else do you need?"

I didn't answer. I shoved the last few books into the suitcase.

He kept going.

"That entire bookshelf in the study is for you. Stop hauling things out every time you get upset."

"You're thirty years old."

I looked toward the study.

The shelf had been installed. I hadn't even had the chance to put a single book on it.

It was already stacked with wedding favors, champagne, and decorations.

Nothing of mine was in there.

And it didn't look like anything was missing.

The next afternoon, the wedding planner sent over the final version of the ceremony program for approval.

Adrian had added a segment about the Michael Grant Memorial Fund — without asking me. He was planning to read a tribute during our wedding.

The planner said on the video call:

"Adrian said you'd definitely be on board."

I looked at the screen.

"The wedding is canceled."

"Deduct whatever's been spent per the contract. Refund the rest to the original payment account."

Dead silence on the other end.

After I hung up, I set the tablet facedown on the table.

Sophie came out of the break room.

"Adrian just wanted to honor my dad."

"The charity fund is a good cause. You're really going to hold that against him too?"

"Lena, I know you hate me."

"But when my dad died, Adrian promised he'd look after me and my mom."

"He's always treated me like family. You know that."

"I know."

"Then why do you turn every single thing he does for me into some kind of choice between us?"

I looked at her.

"Who told you I'm still waiting for him to choose?"

That evening, Sophie was supposed to be on the night shift.

Just past seven, the charge nurse told me to stay.

"Sophie went with her mother for tests."

"Adrian already swapped tonight's shift to you."

In the department group chat, Adrian had posted thirty minutes earlier:

[Sophie has a family emergency. Lena's covering tonight.]

I called him directly.

It rang for a long time before he picked up.

A woman was crying in the background.

"Make it quick."

"Why did you put me on tonight's shift without asking?"

"There are a lot of kids on the ward tonight. You have the most experience. I don't trust anyone else."

"I have an interview in New York tomorrow afternoon."

"Reschedule."

"Why should I?"

"If you walk out now, who covers?"

"And what about the wedding? Lena, read the room."

Adrian dropped his voice.

"Sophie's mother was just diagnosed with renal failure. She's completely breaking down. Can you stop keeping score for one day?"

"No."

"Then don't cover the shift!"

"If there's a staffing problem tonight, you can explain it to the chief yourself."

He hung up.

I looked at the ward full of children.

And put my white coat back on.

At three a.m., an email came in from the hospital in New York.

My résumé had passed the initial screening.

The interview was scheduled for that afternoon.

I could only reply:

[Is it possible to push back one day?]

After sending it, I submitted my resignation to the department chief.

At dawn, Sophie walked in carrying breakfast.

"Lena, thank you for last night."

I looked at her.

"From now on, find your own coverage."

Her face went tight.

"It was one night. Do you have to be this hostile?"

"My mom is sick."

"If you can't come in, file for emergency leave. Whoever covers for you and who arranges it — take it up with them."

"Adrian's running the schedule this week. He has every right to make adjustments."

"Then go thank him."

I walked past her.

Behind me, coffee splashed across the floor.

Sophie crouched there, eyes already red.

Adrian arrived just as I was taking off my white coat.

He didn't look at me first.

He bent down and pulled Sophie to her feet.

"Did it burn you?"

Sophie blinked back tears.

"Lena was up all night. She's in a bad mood."

Adrian finally turned to me.

"Apologize."

"I didn't touch her."

"You know what you said."

"I told her to handle her own shift coverage. That's it."

"Over that?"

"Yes."

He laughed — a short, humorless sound. His eyes were full of disappointment.

"How did I never notice you had so little empathy?"

That sentence hit harder than an entire sleepless night.