7. Karla
KARLA
“Another long night.” I yawned, sinking into the break room chair beside Rich like my bones were made of lead. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead—too bright for three in the morning, but this place never slept.
He’d just pulled the lid off his Tupperware, the smell of homemade chicken noodle soup filling the tiny room. “Slow as hell tonight, huh?” he said, stirring it with a plastic spoon before slurping loudly.
I smirked. “You know it’s bad when I’m rooting for a Code Blue just to stay awake.”
He chuckled through a mouthful of noodles. “Don’t tempt fate, kid. The universe loves making smartasses regret it.”
I pulled my Kindle from my bag, setting it between us. “Fair. But if I don’t find a way to keep my eyes open, you’ll be fishing my head out of this bag of dill pickle chips.” I tore it open and popped a handful in my mouth, the sour tang making me grimace and grin all at once.
Rich eyed the bag. “You know those things’ll burn a hole in your stomach one day.”
“Worth it.” I offered him one, which he declined with a dramatic wave of his spoon.
The quiet between us was the kind of lull that only existed in hospitals after midnight—the sterile hum of machines down the hall, the occasional squeak of rubber soles, the distant beep of monitors somewhere reminding us life and death were still clocked in even if we weren’t.
“Your patient in 312 settle down?” Rich asked, glancing up.
“Yeah, finally. Poor kid’s been through hell,” I said softly. “Car accident last month. Her brother’s always here—big guy, hockey player type. I think seeing him break every time she tries to stand hurts worse than any fracture.”
Rich sighed. “Families like that make you believe in something again.”
I nodded, tucking my legs under me. “Yeah. Makes you want to do more. Be more.”
That was the thing about night shifts—they stripped away the glamour and left you with the raw humanity of it all.
At two a.m., you weren’t just a nurse; you were someone’s surrogate mom, someone’s anchor, someone’s last face before a miracle or a goodbye.
And yet, by sunrise, you were invisible again—just a tired woman trying to find parking near a 24-hour Dunkin’ Donuts.
I loved my job. I really did. But loving it didn’t make it easy.
There were nights when every IV beep felt like an accusation, when I’d stand in the med room trying to remember the last time I’d eaten something that wasn’t from a vending machine.
There were mornings I’d drive home with my hands shaking from too much caffeine and not enough hope.
But then a patient would squeeze my hand or a family would whisper thank you through their tears, and I’d remember why I chose this madness in the first place.
“Earth to Karla,” Rich teased, snapping his fingers. “You’re zoning out again.”
I laughed. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous habit.” He winked. “You need a vacation.”
“Tell that to the mortgage company,” I said, stretching my neck.
He grinned. “Fair point. I’d kill for a week somewhere warm. My husband keeps saying we need to do one of those all-inclusive resorts—somewhere I can drink out of a pineapple.”
“God, that sounds amazing.” I sighed. “The last time James and I took a trip, it was to visit his parents in Jersey. Pretty sure that doesn’t count as a vacation.”
Rich raised an eyebrow. “Y’all still doing okay? You don’t talk about him as much lately.”
I hesitated. “We’re… fine. Just out of sync, I guess. My nights, his days—it’s like we pass each other on a conveyor belt.”
“Hmm.” He sipped his soup. “You know, sometimes the hardest part isn’t falling out of love—it’s realizing you stopped making time to stay in it.”
I smiled faintly. “You sound like a therapist.”
“Please. If I had that kind of wisdom, I’d be making twice as much money for half the hours.”
We both laughed, the kind of laugh that fills empty hallways and keeps the ghosts away for a few minutes.
Right as I hit the good part in Julia Sykes’ newest book, the charge nurse popped her head in. “Karla, you can head on home. It’s dead quiet, and you’re two minutes away from overtime. Go on—get out before I have to fill out a form.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. “Perfect. See you guys tomorrow night.”
Rich shot me a jealous glance. “Enjoy some bed time with that hunk of yours—for all our sakes.”
I laughed, shoving my Kindle back in my bag. “If I can wake the bear from his hibernation, trust me, I’ll make up for lost time.”
But as I drove home, the laughter faded into a quiet ache.
Working opposite hours was starting to unravel us.
It wasn’t just the sex we weren’t having—it was everything else.
The tiny things that make a relationship feel alive.
Dinner conversations. Lazy Saturday mornings.
Falling asleep to the sound of someone’s breathing instead of a ceiling fan.
From day one, James and I had burned bright—fast, passionate, electric. We’d been that couple everyone teased for being too in sync. But lately, I felt like I was chasing shadows. I kept telling myself we’d get back to how we used to be, but words only go so far without action.
So tonight, I decided to act. Getting off early felt like the universe throwing me a bone—a chance to fix what had gone stale.
After a quick stop at the corner store for a bottle of James’s favorite Malbec, I took the stairs up to our apartment, balancing hope and exhaustion in equal measure.
It was almost one in the morning, and I couldn’t wait to crawl into bed next to him.
Sticking my key in the lock, I tried to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake the yappy pups—but of course, Nike and Thor’s radar hearing picked up the sound instantly. Two furry missiles bounded to the door, barking like I’d been gone for weeks.
I set the wine on the counter. “Hush, we don’t want to wake Dad,” I whispered, scooping them both up to carry into the bedroom.
Tiptoeing through the apartment, I eased open the bedroom door and slipped under the sheets—only to find them cold and empty.
“The fuck?” I whispered. “Where the hell is James?”
I flicked on the lamp. The bed was definitely missing one key component.
He’s probably just out with Joey. Don’t jump to conclusions.
I repeated the mantra while thumbing out a text.
Me: Hey babe, got off work early :)
Play it cool.
Within seconds, the typing bubble appeared.
James: Awesome! Can’t wait to see you.
My stomach turned. Does he really think I don’t know he isn’t home?
Me: Be home in five. You better be ready for me.
James: Get that sweet ass home to me.
As I read the message, the front door creaked open.
“Babe?” James called from the foyer.
“In here!” My pulse spiked.
A lazy smile spread on his face as he strode into the bedroom. “I thought you were still on your way. Damn near gave me a heart attack thinking someone broke in and turned all the lights on.”
He crawled onto the bed, kissing my cheek like everything was normal.
“Where were you?” My voice was too calm, too even.
“Joey had a few of us over for poker.”
That’s when I saw it. A faint smear of lipstick on his upper lip.
“This isn’t real,” I whispered. “It can’t be.”
I dragged my thumb over the mark, smearing the evidence.
He froze.
“I can explain,” he stammered, eyes darting everywhere but mine.
I stared at him—this stranger in the body of the man I loved—realizing every ounce of trust we’d built was already ash in my throat.
Whatever came next, there was no going back.