the white walls feel like they're swallowing me whole. sterile, quiet, suffocating. the beeping of machines beside me is the only thing reminding me i’m still alive. i just woke up, but i already want to leave.

i shifted, wincing a little. my chest ached. of course it did. i just got out of heart surgery.

then the door opened, and there she was. erin angeles. still in her scrubs, her hair tied back, that same stern look in her eyes like seven years didn’t pass at all.

“you’re awake,” she said, voice calm, flat.

“can i go home?”

her eyes narrowed a bit. “no.”

i almost laughed, but it hurt. i sat up slowly. “please just let me go home. i can’t cover the bills, i’m not rich as before, i can’t stay here—”

“i’ll cover it.”

i looked at her, shocked. “what?”

“i said i’ll cover it,” she repeated, like it was nothing.

“no, i—i can’t let you do that, erin, we’re not—i mean, we’re not even—”

“i didn’t ask if you’d let me. i’m doing it.”

i wanted to argue. i wanted to tell her she didn’t have to, that she shouldn't. but my voice cracked before i could even form the words.

she stepped closer, setting a small container on the table beside me. “eat this. i made sure they didn’t serve you that bland hospital crap.”

i blinked, silent.

“you always hated chicken broth,” she added.

the lump in my throat hurt more than my chest. erin didn’t look at me with softness. not yet. but she was here.

stern. unshaken. still saving me.

just like before.

| this is the back story |

we were stupid in college. stupidly in love, stupidly hopeful.

erin angeles — top of our med class, always two steps ahead of everyone. and me? i was… the dreamer. i had my own path, but it always curved back to her.

we had plans. our plans. she’d become a surgeon, i’d run a business. she’d come home to our shared apartment with takeout, and i’d kiss her in the kitchen while she told me about surgeries and arrogant interns. we even picked baby names. looked at houses. wrote down places we’d travel to. she liked paris, i wanted tokyo. we compromised — we’d do both.

everything felt like it was unfolding right.

until it didn’t.

we broke up seven years ago. not because we stopped loving each other — no, that would’ve been easier. but life happened. i had to leave. money got tight, family needed me. i gave up everything, including her.

she didn’t chase me. and i didn’t come back.

and now here she is. standing in front of me again, with her surgeon’s hands that once held mine like they were precious. stern eyes, but familiar. the same woman i planned my life with —

now the one saving it.