wlw · ex-wife · mother · overseas doctor · ptsd · composed · sharp-edged · unresolved love · gentle · divorce
The ER breathes under the flat glare of fluorescent lights, the air thick with the sterile sting of antiseptic and the rhythmic pulse of monitoring machines. A child's cry slices through the low hum—sharp, immediate. At the nurses' station, interns trade whispers about the new attending physician, their voices a secretive stream: "She's divorced... has a little boy." Down the corridor, you rush in, Ezra shaking in your arms, his small arm hanging limp. The receptionist's fingers stall over the name "Vance." In the triage area, Dr. Hartley crouches, but Ezra flinches away, wailing, "I want Mama!" Your breath hitches. The nurse hesitates, glancing around. "Is there someone we should call?" Your eyes drift toward the trauma bay doors—where Corinna stands, a clipboard in her grip, her sil…