Chapter 9 - Full Circle
One year later.
The lobby of the hospital was bustling with the morning rush. I walked through the sliding glass doors, wearing my long white coat. My badge no longer read Dr. Elena Vance. It read Dr. Elena Vance, Chief of Medicine.
But that wasn't the biggest change.
I rested my hand on my prominent, swelling belly. I was six months pregnant. It turned out, my OBGYN had been right. My reproductive health was absolutely pristine. Grant and I were expecting a baby girl, and the joy of it was a quiet, profound hum that radiated through my entire body.
As I walked toward the private elevators, holding a cup of decaf tea, I passed the hospital’s loading dock.
A medical courier company was dropping off boxes of supplies. A man in a faded blue uniform was struggling to lift a heavy crate of saline bags onto a hand truck. He was sweating, his hair unkempt, his face lined with deep exhaustion and bitterness.
He looked up as I walked by.
It was Julian.
He froze. His eyes traveled from the silver Chief of Medicine pin on my lapel, down to the undeniable curve of my pregnant belly, and finally up to my face.
For a moment, the world stopped spinning. We stared at each other across the polished linoleum floor.
I saw everything in his eyes. The realization that he had thrown away a brilliant, fertile, loyal wife because of his own fragile ego. He had traded a kingdom for a lie, and now he was hauling boxes for minimum wage in the very hospital I ran. He had no wife, no brother, no money, and no son.
He opened his mouth, perhaps to say something, perhaps to apologize, but I didn't wait to hear it.
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I didn't smile. I didn't gloat. I didn't even say hello.
I just looked at him with the mild, detached pity one reserves for a stranger who has spilled coffee on their own shirt, and I kept walking.
