Chapter 1

While I was helping the head nurse sort through patient files, she suddenly asked, "Emily Carter, is Thomas Grant your fiancé?"

I nodded, and she slid a bed reassignment form toward me. "Then why did he approve a bed for Mrs. Lane?"

I lowered my eyes. I recognized Thomas Grant's signature instantly.

The nurse went on, "The approval came through in a rush. They squeezed it in overnight."

I smiled faintly. "Yeah. He doesn't usually care this much about anything."

I read the reassignment form from top to bottom. At the bottom was a handwritten note from Thomas: [Patient Mrs. Lane is at risk of sudden deterioration and meets the criteria for emergency priority admission.

[The originally assigned patient, Grace Carter, is stable for now, so admission may be delayed. I take full responsibility for this reassignment. - Attending Physician: Thomas]

I pulled out my phone and texted Thomas: [You sure know how to use your attending privileges.]

He replied almost instantly: [?]

I didn't answer.

Let him keep using his power to play saint. My mother's life no longer needed his concern.

I clenched the wrinkled form until my fingertips turned white, ignored the buzz from his message, and walked toward the private suite that should've belonged to her.

The hallway reeked of disinfectant, its cold sting scraping down my throat. The door stood cracked open, and low, intimate voices drifted out. From the shadows outside, I watched Sophie Lane lower her head and hand Thomas a tissue.

Instead of taking the tissue, he caught her wrist. "Don't cry. Mrs. Lane's condition is stable now. I'm here, so don't be scared."

Sophie sniffled, shoulders trembling, almost folding into his arms. "Thomas, thank you. If you hadn't rearranged the bed overnight, I really don't know what I would've done." The way she said his name sounded completely natural.

That bed had been my mother's lifeline, ripped straight out of her hands. I stared at Thomas's hand, which had wielded a scalpel, and countless times brushed stray hairs from my face. Now it was gently comforting another woman.

Cold air poured from the vent and numbed half my face.

Five years together, and I still couldn't get one ounce of honesty from him. He'd never told me he'd given the only specialist bed to Sophie. I stepped back into the tiled wall, the chill seeping straight through my clothes.

I wanted to storm in, slap the form in his face, and demand to know who had decided my mother's condition was stable.

Half a month ago, I'd stood outside his office begging, "Thomas, my mom's tumor is pressing on a blood vessel. That specialist bed is the only thing that can save her."

He hadn't even looked up then. "Emily, the hospital has rules. Beds go by condition. Be reasonable."

Thinking about it now, those words felt like a sick joke.

Thomas stood and took the companion chair as if it were the most natural thing in the world, close enough that his breath nearly brushed Sophie's.

"Carrying the documents, the head nurse entered the room. She shot a troubled look toward the bed.

“Dr. Grant, we’ve finished all formalities for the bed reassignment. This is the final confirmation slip; you need to sign it.”"

Sophie looked up, her eyes glued to Thomas.

He took the pen, and the tip scratched softly across the paper. With that signature, he severed the last of my trust.

I looked down at my copy: [I take full responsibility for the consequences of this reassignment. - Attending Physician: Thomas Grant]

He was willing to put his reputation on the line for Sophie, but when it came to my mother, all he ever talked about was proper procedure.

A heavy tightness clamped my chest, making it hard to breathe. I did not cry but I only thought it was utterly absurd. Five years of love and care had lost to one tear from Sophie.

He must've felt my gaze. After patting the back of Sophie's hand and murmuring to her, he came out.

The moment he saw me, a flicker of discomfort crossed his eyes. "What are you doing here?" he asked, shutting the door behind him.

I waved the form in my hand and said evenly, "I came to see what you look like when you're busy saving the world."

Thomas frowned and reached for my wrist. "Emily, listen to me. Sophie's mom was in really bad shape. As for your mom, I can..."

I stepped back and dodged his touch. "You can what? Keep letting her wait to die, or keep telling her to be reasonable?"

My attitude set him off. His voice dropped. "Do you really have to make a scene right now? This is a hospital."

"I'm not making a scene." I smoothed the wrinkled paper, folded it, and slipped it into my pocket. "You said you'd take full responsibility, right?

He stared at me, lips pressed tight, suddenly guarded.

I turned to the window at the end of the hall. "Then see it through."

A weak call from Sophie floated out of the room. He looked at me with open disappointment. "Emily, you've changed. You were never this heartless before." Then he pushed the door open and went back inside without another glance.

I clenched the paper in my pocket until my knuckles ached and felt completely awake for the first time.

Then I took out my phone and dialed overseas. "Professor Linden, I'd like to join the clinical program you mentioned. I'm bringing my mom with me."

A voice spoke from the other end of the line, and I gave a quiet reply. I looked once more at the closed door, then turned and walked away. The automatic doors shut behind me with a dull thud.

If his privilege was never meant for me, then those five years had been wasted on him.