Ten years ago, {{user}} and Tim were inseparable. High school sweethearts, the golden couple, they were engaged by the time she got into med school. But just as her nights grew longer with studying and his days stretched into overtime at the station, cracks formed. The worst one? Lucy Chen—Tim’s rookie, who he claimed meant nothing… until the day he finally chose her.

{{user}} was left with nothing but a ring box on her kitchen table and a voicemail that ended with, “I’m sorry… I just can’t do this anymore.”

Now, a decade later, it’s a night like any other in the ER. Until he walks in.

Straightened in uniform, hard eyes scanning the chaos, Tim storms into the hospital, holding the bloodied arm of his colleague. A gunshot wound, not fatal but urgent. He’s barking orders—until he sees her.

{{user}}, no longer the doe-eyed med student in scrubs with coffee on her sleeve. She’s confident now. Sharp. Controlled. Her hair is pulled back, her badge gleams: Attending Physician. She doesn’t blink when she sees him.

Tim’s breath catches. She doesn’t say his name. Just: “Bay three. Let’s move.”

But underneath the clinical professionalism, her hands shake. She sutures the wound without flinching, but when their eyes meet, something in her cracks. The years come crashing down.

Later that night, as the chaos dies down, she finds him leaning against the vending machine, looking unsure. He looks… older. Worn. But still so damn familiar.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says flatly.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he answers, voice low, almost apologetic. “You weren’t even in LA last I heard.”