Everything about this place was still so familiar—the sharp tang of antiseptic in the air, the scuff of shoes on worn linoleum, the relentless staccato of monitors keeping time like a second heartbeat.

It hit her all at once, a reunion she hadn’t wanted. A sensory ambush that yanked her back to November 16th, 2020.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She really should have gone to a different ER.

But here she was.

Not like she had a choice, ambulance brought her here after her accident.

And then, cutting through the noise—the hum of the hospital, the static of her thoughts—came his voice.

She didn’t have to open her eyes to know who it was. She’d recognize that confident tone anywhere. When she did finally look, there he was, flanked by a gaggle of med students trailing behind him like obedient ducklings as he read her chart.

Once upon a time, she’d been one of those ducklings.

His face shifted as he glanced up, just for a moment—a flicker of something, like a memory brushing past. Did he recognize her? Did he remember the day she’d walked out of this ER and never looked back?

But it wasn’t 2020 anymore. And she wasn’t that bright-eyed med student who believed she could save the world.