That's a few months.

"Can you hand me Ms. Hannah’s medical history? Her surgery’s tomorrow," I asked the new intern nurse, tapping my fingers on the table. "It’s Sophia Hannah, don’t mix it up, alright?" It was her first month here, and mistakes were becoming a bit of a pattern. I figured nerves were at play, so I tried to give her a gentle heads-up. But delays in getting things right could really affect patient care.

I was juggling surgeries back to back, racing against the clock, so having extra help was crucial. The hospital assigned me an intern to assist with admin tasks. My office walls were lined with framed certificates—awards from internal recognitions to the Distinguished Service Award from the American Society of Anesthesiologists.

Eight years of education and two grueling years of residency had brought me here—a dedicated anesthesiologist with a high success rate. Overcoming doubts and the challenges of pursuing a specialized career wasn’t easy. Being a doctor, especially a specialist, demanded immense energy, time, and financial investment.

But with my strong determination and my mother’s unwavering support, I pushed forward. Raised by a single mother in a rural area, pursuing my dream meant she had to sell inherited land—the only asset we had besides our humble home. I was determined to repay her sacrifice, though she never asked for it.

Just then, my phone beeped—a call from Mom. "Hi, Mom," I greeted eagerly.

"Livia, why haven’t you been home this month? Do you even care about your old mother anymore?" she teased, straight to the point.

I chuckled, "Sorry, Mom, just swamped. Lots of surgeries, I’m wiped."

The conversation with Mom always reminded me of why I pushed myself so hard. It was for her, for us, and for the patients relying on me every day.

To which Mom replied, sounding concerned, “Don’t overwork yourself, Livia. Come home with Garet and spend some time in nature. Aren’t you tired of dealing with blood and flesh all the time?”

Since I moved to the city a decade ago, Mom and I barely saw each other—maybe twice every few months, mostly just catching up over the phone like now. I felt guilty and offered to have her come live with me and my husband, but she refused, saying she couldn’t stand the polluted air and noisy city life. All she really wanted was for us to give her a grandchild soon. She even joked about raising her in our quiet rural village if we were too busy with work.

There was one thing I hadn’t told her, though—Garet and I had been too caught up in our own lives to even think about having a child. We’d dated on and off for seven years before finally tying the knot three years ago.

Initially, our marriage was blissful and harmonious, but over time, our demanding jobs built a wall between us, brick by brick. We lost that spark, you know? Especially in the past month. My duties as an anesthesiologist had me working late into the night, often coming home at dawn, while Garet’s job as a private detective kept him just as occupied. He even had a small office with a bed, and he often ended up sleeping there.

We only managed to meet a few times a week, and even then, it was just in passing. “How’s work? Good?” and “Honey, sorry I’m tired,” were our usual exchanges. It felt more like being acquaintances than a married couple.

But no matter how exhausted I was, I always made sure to take care of Garet’s needs at home—cooking for him, laying out his clothes, and making his favorite black coffee in the mornings. I tried my best to be a good wife despite my hectic schedule.

Today was Sunday, my rare day off, so I asked Garet if he could take a break too. There was a moment of silence before he agreed. I planned to take him out for a meal, something we used to enjoy together.

I dressed in a casual midi dress adorned with cute cherry ornaments, chic yet age-appropriate. After a light touch of makeup and fixing my hair, I walked over to where he was waiting in the living room.

He was engrossed in his phone, looking serious—probably working. The soft glow of the screen accentuated his handsome features: sharp jawline, high nose, and a gaze that could be both intimidating and captivating. Despite wearing a black polo and chinos, he managed to look effortlessly stylish, almost like a wealthy mogul's son on vacation. It dawned on me then that clothes truly complemented his already striking appearance. With his athletic build and aristocratic-like face, he could make any outfit look good, even a sack.

Eventually, Garet noticed my presence and glanced up. His expression remained stoic, but a very subtle smile played on his lips, and his eyes gave me a look of approval. After years together, I had learned to read his micro expressions—a skill he excelled in as a detective. It had proven useful on numerous occasions.

"Ready?" he asked, breaking the moment.

"Yeah, do you want to swing by the supermarket after lunch? I need to pick up a few things for Mom," I replied. It was noon, and we planned to enjoy a leisurely lunch followed by a stroll through the city park.

"Sure, why not?" Garet stood up from the sofa, and I followed suit. But just as we were about to head out to the car, my phone began to ring. I rolled my eyes in annoyance—it was a call from my colleague. I typically ignored work calls on my day off, but the frequency of missed calls suggested it might be urgent.

"Yeah?" I answered as soon as I picked up.

"Doc, sorry for bothering you. Can you come to the hospital? We can't locate a patient's file," my colleague explained.

"Why don’t you ask Miss Dunne? Isn't she on duty?" I suggested, Miss Dunne was my intern.

"We already did, but she doesn't know where it is," came the frustrating reply.

I sighed deeply. This was supposed to be a peaceful day off for me. "Okay, I'll be there. Just wait for me," I finally conceded, feeling a pang of disappointment. The senior nurse on the other end thanked me and hung up.

Garet glanced at me with concern. "Everything okay?"

"Work calls. Sorry, honey, can we swing by the hospital first? I’ll be quick," I replied apologetically, already feeling guilty about cutting short our time together. I wanted Garet to have a break from work today, but my mind was preoccupied with the office.

He nodded understandingly, and we got into the car, heading towards the hospital.

After about 20 minutes of driving, we arrived at the imposing Centra Medica Hospital, where I've been working. Its modern design spoke volumes about its prestige—it was recognized as the best hospital in the nation, attracting international patients seeking treatment for various illnesses.

Garet parked the red BMW, and we walked to my office. He waited outside while I entered, greeted by a trio of faces displaying a range of emotions—anger, confusion, and fear. The senior nurse who had called me earlier explained the situation. Once again, my intern had made a mistake, mixing up some files. Patient data had been swapped between doctors, causing a minor uproar. The immediate crisis was resolved, but I was frustrated.

The intern looked visibly scared, likely having faced reprimands before. I felt sympathy, but this couldn't continue. I asked the other two individuals to step out, leaving just the intern and me.

"Miss Dunne, I know you're still learning and have a lot ahead of you. But I need you to be more careful moving forward. If another mistake happens, I'll have to discuss transferring you from my department with the director," I said in the calmest tone I could muster, though her doe-eyed expression tugged at my empathy.

"Okay, you can go now. Just remember to slow down and work accurately," I added gently.

She nodded earnestly. "Yes, Doctor. Thank you."

I watched her leave, hoping this conversation would serve as a turning point for her attention to detail. Turning back to my day off, I sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of responsibilities that often spilled over into personal time.

As I was walking out of the room, I noticed the girl suddenly stop in her tracks and stare at Garet. Her eyes widened in shock. “Garry? You….”

I frowned, wondering what was going on. Why were they both so stunned?

Garet quickly regained his composure and put on his usual neutral expression. “Is everything alright?” I asked, trying to understand the sudden tension.

“No, no. I must’ve mistaken him for someone else. I’m sorry,” she stammered, clearly flustered.

“Alright, let’s get going, Garet. I think we still have time to grab lunch at Olive’s,” I said, stepping between them to break the awkwardness. Garet quickly followed, and we headed out of the hospital around 1 p.m. The lunch plan wasn’t completely ruined yet.

As we drove through the city, the tall buildings reflecting the afternoon sun, I sighed and broke the silence. Garet was focused on the road, not saying much.

“Garet, Mom’s been asking us to visit. When do you think we can go?” I asked, hoping to make some plans.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. I’ll check my schedule and let you know,” he replied, still focused on driving.

“Okay. It’s just that we haven’t been in touch with her for a while. How are your parents doing?” I asked, trying to make conversation.

“They’re... fine, I guess. Haven’t talked to them much recently. Mom did call last week, though. She’s still on about wanting a grandbaby,” Garet said, his tone as monotone as ever.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that, and decided not to mention that my mom had been saying the same thing. It might have made things awkward. Garet’s parents had always been kind to me. Sometimes, I even thought that part of the reason Garet agreed to marry me was because his parents had never approved of his relationships with anyone else.

To shift the mood, I decided to play some music from my playlist and clicked on one of my favorite oldies. Ricky Nelson’s “I Will Follow You” started playing, its upbeat intro filling the car. We both had a soft spot for these classic tunes, so it wasn’t unusual for us to bond over them.

I will follow you

Follow you wherever you may go

There isn't an ocean too deep

A mountain so high it can keep me away

I must follow you

Ever since you touched my hand I know

That near you, I always must be

And nothing can keep you from me

You are my destiny

We’d spent many drives and meals enjoying songs like this, whether we were aimlessly cruising around the city or just grabbing a bite to eat.

As the familiar melody filled the car, I was instantly transported back to those carefree college days when our biggest concern was which diner to visit next. I hummed along to the song, and Garet glanced over at me with a smile. It seemed he was feeling the nostalgia too.

“Garet, you know I will follow you around,” I said playfully, not entirely sure why I said it but feeling it was fitting in the moment.

“Won’t you be tired?” he asked with a teasing tone.

I nudged his arm lightly and replied, “Never.”

After a couple more songs, we pulled up to Olive’s, our favorite restaurant. I ordered my usual: carbonara spaghetti and garlic bread, while Garet went for his go-to chicken with honey sauce. We chatted about everything and nothing as we ate, bouncing from one topic to another.

At some point, Garet asked about my work. We’d both been so busy lately that I hadn’t had a chance to fill him in. I told him about the new intern nurse who had been causing problems at the hospital.

“What’s her name?” Garet asked, looking curious.

“Dunne. Jane or Joanna Dunne, I think. Do you know her?” I asked, recalling the strange interaction we’d had earlier that day.

He paused for a moment before saying, “I’m not sure. She looked a bit like someone I knew back in high school.”

“Who? She seemed younger than us. How would you know her?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s just a vague memory. Could be wrong,” Garet replied with a shrug. I studied his face and saw that he seemed sincere, so I decided not to press further. We hadn’t had a chance to relax and enjoy each other’s company like this in ages, and I didn’t want to spoil it.

After our meal, we decided to stop by a nearby supermarket to pick up some health supplements and multivitamins for my mom. She was getting older, and I wanted to make sure she had everything she needed to stay healthy.

With plenty of daylight left, I thought it’d be nice to continue our outing. I suggested we grab some cookies or coffee at our favorite café. On the way there, I called up my best friend, Roxanne. We all went to the same college, though we studied different subjects. Despite that, we had become quite close.

Roxanne was thrilled at the idea of catching up, especially since it had been months since we last saw each other. So there we were, sitting by the café’s window, enjoying our coffee and chatting like old times. Roxanne had a knack for bringing humor to any situation, and today was no different. She joked about how Garet looked a bit worn out from dealing with criminals all the time. She also supported my mom’s advice about taking a break and spending a few days in the village.

“Maybe you two can finally get around to doing some ‘teamwork’,” Roxanne teased, clapping her hands in a playful gesture and winked. Her bold and loud personality always added a unique flair to our trio. Garet’s serious demeanor and my tendency to mirror people were perfectly balanced by Roxanne’s vibrant energy. It was good to be reminded of the simple joys of friendship and laughter.

Not long after, a man in his early thirties strolled over to our table. He had a thin frame and a bit of an awkward demeanor, with curly hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. But when he started talking, his warm, engaging personality was like a breath of fresh air. This was Leon Perez, the manager of the café. He was someone we’d gotten to know over the years because we were regulars here. We were more like friends than just customers.

“Hey! Where have you all been? I thought you’d moved abroad without a word,” Leon greeted us with a grin.

“Sorry, Leon. Work’s been crazy busy,” I said. “What about you? You never drop by Livy’s hospital or Garet’s office, and don’t even get me started on my radio station,” Roxanne shot back with a playful tone.

Leon’s grandparents had come to this country as immigrants and had a tough start, but they persevered. D’Perez, the café, was a testament to their hard work. Over the decades, it grew from a small shop into a successful chain with branches all over the state. Leon was now managing the one in Kingsleigh, the city where we lived.

When we first started coming here, it was a quiet little spot with great service and an even better menu. The business took off, the place expanded, but it still retained that cozy, welcoming atmosphere that made us feel at home.

Leon and Garet chatted about everything from the latest news to upcoming elections and DIY projects. Meanwhile, Roxanne and I caught up on each other’s lives, swapping stories and laughing about old times.

I felt a genuine sense of happiness as I sat there, enjoying the perfect day and the company of friends over coffee. Life felt so good, and everything seemed to click into place after catching up with people we cared about.

Garet and Leon stepped outside for a smoke break, and Roxanne turned to me with a mischievous smile. “So, how’s things between you and him?” she asked, clearly curious.

“Me and Garet? I think we’re okay, at least today,” I said. “We’ve been so caught up in work that we kind of lost our spark over the past few months, but today felt like a nice change.”

I went on to describe our “little date” and how the day almost took a nosedive because of the incident at the hospital.

“Wait, hold on,” Roxanne interrupted, suddenly looking intrigued. “What’s the intern’s name again?”

“Why does everyone care so much about her name? Is she someone famous?” I asked, puzzled.

“It just sounds really familiar. Dunne? Jane Dunne? Oh my God,” Roxanne said, her expression shifting to one of disbelief.

“What’s wrong? Do you know her?” I asked, leaning in.

“Of course I do. Do you have her photo?” Roxanne’s tone was urgent.

I hesitated for a moment before pulling out my phone and showing her a group photo from a colleague’s birthday party we’d taken just two weeks ago.

Roxanne’s eyes widened as she looked at the picture. “Yes, that’s her.”

“You know her?” I asked again, my curiosity mounting.

“Actually, we both do,” Roxanne said slowly.

“Wait, what do you mean?” I was getting more confused.

“You remember Garet’s ex? She was a freshman when they dated in high school, 3 years younger,” Roxanne said carefully.

I stared at her, trying to piece things together. “What? You mean, that Jane…?”

Before I could finish my thought, it all clicked into place. The Jane from Garet’s past was the same Jane who was now the intern at the hospital.

I turned to look at Garet, who was chatting with Leon outside, and a wave of unease washed over me. I might have been overreacting, but the sudden realization felt like a sharp jab in my gut. Something about it just didn’t sit right, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye.

As dinner time rolled around, we wrapped up our catch-up with Roxanne and headed home. Roxanne gave me a tight hug before we parted ways, whispering, “Call me if anything happens, okay?”

I forced a smile, trying not to let her see how anxI felt. I nodded, hoping to reassure her.

The drive back home was quiet. We both seemed lost in our thoughts. I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at me. Finally, I decided to voice my concerns.

“So... she’s your ex?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I was trying hard to keep my tone calm and collected. Garet glanced over at me and nodded. “Yes.”

His straightforwardness was both comforting and disconcerting. I appreciated his honesty, but knowing Jane was his ex stirred up a mix of emotions in me. It was unsettling, even though nothing had happened between them recently.

“Don’t worry,” Garet said, trying to soothe me. “What’s in the past is in the past. We’re married now, and that’s what matters.”

I looked into his brown eyes, feeling the familiar warmth of his gaze. I held his hand, forcing a smile, and told myself that his love for me was strong and unchanging. Time would tell, but for now, I had to trust in what we had.

Days turned into weeks, and life settled back into its usual routine. We were both buried in work, barely seeing each other except for a few hours each week. The worry about Jane faded into the background. Even if she was Garet’s past, I was his present and future—at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

One day, as I was tidying up the room and gathering dirty laundry, I came across Garet’s t-shirts. We had a helper who took care of most of the housework, but I still liked to do small chores myself. As I picked up his clothes, I noticed something odd. There was a faint, unfamiliar scent on his t-shirt.

It was subtle, but it made me pause. I couldn’t quite place it, and it caused a small, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I thought it was just a weird coincidence and shrugged it off. The scent could easily be from his clients or colleagues; he interacted with so many people every day.

But then, another odd thing happened. I was finishing up a night shift at the hospital when I saw him in the corridor.

“Garet? What are you doing here?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“I’m here to pick you up,” he replied casually.

It was unusual for him to come to the hospital, let alone pick me up. It was a nice surprise, and I felt a wave of happiness. “Great! I’ll just tidy up a bit. Wait here!” I said, heading to my office to grab my things. My shift had ended, so I was ready to go.

When I came back out, though, there was no sign of him. I called his phone, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried calling repeatedly, but there was no answer. I figured maybe he was in the restroom or had to step away briefly, so I waited for about ten minutes. I even asked a colleague to check the restroom, but he wasn’t there.

Puzzled, I went to check the parking lot, thinking maybe he was waiting for me there. I roamed around the vast parking area for almost an hour, but he was nowhere to be found. Growing increasingly anxious, I ended up ordering a taxi to head home, assuming he might have gone back without me.

When I got home, there was no sign of him. My worry turned to panic. Had he disappeared? Or was I just too tired and imagining things? I texted Bernard, Garet’s work partner and best buddy, to see if he knew where Garet was.

Bernard’s reply came back quickly, which read, [No, he left the site a few hours ago.]

I asked if he could try contacting Garet, but Bernard told me he couldn’t reach him either. Apparently, Garet’s phone was dead, which wasn’t typical of him. This only added to my growing anxiety. What was going on?

I was fraught with worry over Garet’s sudden disappearance. Desperate to calm myself, I took a long, soothing shower and tried to wash away the anxiety that had built up. Afterward, I checked my phone again, hoping for a missed call or message, but there was nothing. The clock was inching closer to midnight, and the fear that something might have happened to him was overwhelming.

I decided to call Roxanne, hoping she might still be awake and able to offer some support. When she answered, her voice was groggy and a bit irritated. “Hello? Livy, why are you calling me so late?” she mumbled.

I quickly explained the situation, my voice trembling. There was a long pause on the other end. “Hello? Roxanne, are you still there?” I asked, my heart racing.

“Yeah, I’m here,” she finally responded, sounding more alert. “I’m just thinking. Garet’s been with the police for years, right? He’ll be fine. Don’t panic. I think you should try to get some sleep. We can come up with a plan if he’s still missing in the morning. You need rest, okay?”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Alright, I’ll talk to you in the morning. I’m sorry for calling so late.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just try to stay positive. I’m sure he’s okay,” she said with a reassuring tone. Her confidence helped soothe my nerves a bit.

After thanking her, I ended the call and tried my best to get some sleep. I tossed and turned for hours, unable to shake the anxiety that clung to me. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and I managed to drift off.

My alarm blared at 6 am, jolting me awake. I had only slept for a few hours, and my body felt heavy and broken. I quickly rubbed the sleep from my eyes and grabbed my phone, praying for a message or call that might reassure me.

There it was—the long-awaited message from Garet. He had replied just an hour ago, explaining that his colleague had called him for something urgent the previous night. After the call, his phone died, and he got caught up in some casework back at the office. He must have fallen asleep there and completely forgot about his dead phone.

I was a mix of relieved and annoyed. It was totally unlike Garet to worry me like this. He was usually so reliable and considerate. I called him right away, and he picked up after a few rings.

“Garet, where were you? I was freaking out, trying to reach you and even contacted your friends!” I started, my voice tinged with frustration.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, his baritone voice sounding genuinely tired. “It was an urgent situation. I promise it won’t happen again.”

His fatigue softened my anger a bit. “When are you coming home? I’ll make you some soup,” I offered, trying to shift the focus to something more caring.

“Maybe around noon,” he replied. “Aren’t you working today?”

“No, I’m taking the day off,” I said. “I’m exhausted from all the stress last night.”

There was a brief silence before he responded, “Okay, I’ll see you around then.”

After ending the call, I quickly sent messages to Roxanne and Bernard to let them know Garet was okay and reassure them that everything was fine. With that settled, I fell back onto the bed, pulled the covers over me, and tried to get a bit more sleep.

***

Garet's voice echoed, "Goodbye, Livy. I’m sorry, but we can’t be together," as he let go of my hand. Next to him stood Jane, her smile warm and sweet, her big eyes and rosy cheeks glowing. I felt myself dangling over a cliff, desperately clinging to Garet's hand. But then, he pulled away, letting me plummet into the dark abyss below. I screamed, but my voice was swallowed by the void.

Just as I was about to hit the bottom, the ground began to tremble and buzz uncontrollably. I shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, my heart racing. It took a moment to realize it was just another alarm I had set. What a nightmare! The sensation of falling felt so vivid and terrifying. I chalked it up to being overly tired and stressed from everything going on lately.

I stumbled out of bed, washed my face, and headed to the kitchen. I needed to distract myself. I opened the fridge and checked the ingredients for the soup. Everything was in place. I started washing and chopping vegetables, preparing the seasoning for Garet’s favorite potato and vegetable soup. It was a simple dish, but it had been a comforting staple for us, especially with the special recipe my mom had passed down.

By noon, the soup was simmering on the stove, and I was just about to set the table when my phone buzzed with a new message. I picked it up, and my heart sank as I read the text.