Chapter 31
Collins
Today was my last day at the hospital. My resignation felt final in a way I hadn’t been prepared for.
I couldn’t decide whether I should say goodbye to her…
or slip away without a word. The thought of leaving her like this knotted my chest. I didn’t know if I could handle her looking at me, smiling and knowing I was going.
Despite my hesitation, I found myself walking down the quiet corridor toward her room.
Each step felt heavier than the last, each heartbeat thudding painfully in my ears.
I stopped at the doorway, peering in just enough to catch a glimpse of her.
She was focused on her breakfast. Methodically spooning the porridge into her mouth, completely unaware of my presence.
Her hair fell softly across her face. I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt her.
Not today. Not when I might break down in front of her.
So I hung around a little longer, just watching her breathing, the way her small hands moved, it all burned into my mind. I wanted to memorise every detail.
Then, as silent as I was, I stepped back. My shoes barely made a sound against the floor. I didn’t say goodbye, I didn’t knock. I just left. Leaving behind my faint presence in the doorway, carrying the ache of one last look, that would stay with me long after the hospital walls faded from view.
I was gathering the last of my things from the call room when there was a soft knock on the door.
"Dr. Collins," a nurse called. "Come in," I replied without looking up. She stepped inside, smiling. "Could you please stop by the doctor's lounge before you leave? Someone is waiting for you there."
I frowned slightly. “Someone.”
“Yes.” She said, still smiling.
“All right,” I replied. “I'll be there in a few minutes.”
Once I zipped up my bag and looked one last time at the room I’ve been using for years, I walked down to the lounge.
This place shaped me, broke me, and remade me.
I pushed the door open. “Surprise!” The room erupted with voices and laughter.
Nurses, senior doctors, junior interns, heads of departments—everyone who could sneak away from duty had crammed into the space.
Balloons, a banner that read 'Good Luck Dr. Collins,' trays of food, coffee, and cake. For a moment, I just stood there, stunned. I spotted Marlon immediately grinning like he’d pulled of the greatest secret of his life.
Chantelle waved at me from near the table.
“You didn’t think you were leaving without a proper send-off, did you?” Marlon said, walking towards me. I shook my head slowly, still trying to process everything. “You planned all this?” “Of course,” Chantell said, stepping closer. “You’re kind of a big deal here in case you forgot.”
“Yep, she did most of it,” Marlon said, pointing to Chantelle.
I smiled, genuinely moved.
Then I scanned the room again. “Where’s Tim, I asked.
Marlon’s smile faded just a little. “He is running late. Got called in for an emergency.”
I nodded, trying not to let the small sting show.
Typical Tim. Always choosing patients over parties. But frankly, I would have done the same.
Still, I hoped he’d make it. Some goodbyes weren’t complete without the people who had walked the hardest roads with you.
After the laughter died down and the cake was cut, I made my way around the room, saying my goodbyes one by one.
Handshakes turned into hugs. Jokes turned into quite meaningful thank-yous.
Some of the nurses had tears in their eyes.
One of the interns told me I was the reason he chose neurosurgery.
That nearly broke me. I didn’t trust my voice by the end of it, so I just smiled, nodded and squeezed hands.
When I felt like if I stayed one more minute, I might not leave at all, I picked up my bag and slipped out.
The hallway was quieter now; the noise from the lounge faded. I walked toward the elevators. My footsteps slow and heavy. I pressed the buttons, and stood still.
“Collins!” Tim caught up to me, breathless. I turned to face him.
“Don’t leave yet. We just got a trauma case. Car accident, massive head injury. The CT shows a brainstem bleed and two ruptured vessels. He’s herniating. The survival rate is… basically nothing.”
I went still. “How bad?”
“Worst I’ve seen in years,” Tim said quietly. “The team gave him less than a one percent chance. They’re prepping for surgery, but I… “ His voice broke. “We need you for one last surgery.”
I looked at him. “I’m sure Harper got this.”
“Not for this,” Tim said. “This is your kind of impossible. Your record, your awards, your damn miracles—this is you.”
I glanced down at my jacket, still folded over my arms. Then I looked back at Tim. “How old is the patient?”
“Twenty-three,” Tim said. “Barely breathing.”
That was enough.
“Where is he?”
“Theatre three.”
I handed Tim my jacket. “Hold this.”
Tim stared at me, “You’re staying?”
“For one more fight. No one that young should die because a statistic gave up first.”
Inside the theatre the room was tense, machines blared. The room buzzed with urgency. Everything moved fast, loud and desperate.
I took over like I never planned to leave.
Hours later, when it was over, the bleeding was controlled. The pressure relieved, the brain saved from collapse.
The patient wasn’t awake, but he was alive.
The nurse whispered, “We didn’t think he’d make it through the first hour.”
I pulled off my gloves slowly. “One per cent doesn’t mean impossible. It just means someone has to be stubborn enough to fight it.”
After peeling off my scrubs, I let out a long sigh, the day finally catching up with me.
Tim stepped closer, clapping me on the shoulder before pulling me into a brotherly hug.
“Thanks, man.” he said my voice low. “You’re a lifesaver.
And good luck with your first endeavours.
Let’s catch up sometime…. Maybe I’ll come by your housewarming once you’re settled.
“Yeah… sure,” I said distracted. My mind was elsewhere. I couldn’t shake the thought of her. Anna.
Tim looked at me, “Are you saying goodbye to her?”
I hesitated, then asked, trying to keep my voice casual. “How is she…? How’s she doing?”
Tim’s expression softened. “She’s asleep now after Marlon checked on her.”
My chest tightened. “I want to see her. One last time before I go.”
Tim nodded, understanding immediately. “Of course. Just… don’t overdo it. I’ll walk you there.”
I followed him down the quiet hospital corridor, each step heavier than the last, my mind racing with everything I wanted to say and do. When I reached her room, the soft hum of the machines and the dim lighting made her look even more peaceful than I remembered.
I stepped closer, unable to resist the pull, and took her hand in mine. The warmth of her skin was grounding, and I pressed my thumb over hers, memorising the feel, savouring the moment. “Take care, Anna,” I whispered, barely moving my lips.
Tim gave me a small knowing smile and a nod before quietly stepping back, leaving me there for a few lingering moments. I didn’t want to leave, but I knew I had to. Pulling my hand away was harder than I imagined.
As I turned toward the door, I paused one last time to glance at her peaceful face, “See you Anna,” I murmured under my breath. Then I walked away, the weight of leaving her behind settling in my chest as I made my way out of the hospital.