Love is an illusion

4

Today had been an exhausting day at the hospital. I assisted Dr. Mclaggen with a blood clot surgery that took over three hours, on top of my already heavy workload. By the time I was finished, my eyes felt like they were glued shut, and I couldn't keep them open any longer. Finally, I gave in and decided to head to the on-call room for a much-needed nap.

I fell asleep the moment I hit the bunk bed, completely drained. But before I could enjoy even a moment of peace, someone started pounding on the door.

"Ms. Sterling, are you in there?" That annoying voice was unmistakable.

I tried to ignore him, hoping he would go away, but the banging and yelling continued. Reluctantly, I got up and headed for the door. Before I could even reach it, he yanked me outside, pulling me toward the ER at full speed.

"There's a patient in the ER with cranial decompression. He needs immediate surgery," Dr. Rochefort said as we rushed down the hallway.

"Wait... where's Martha? You know I'm not trained for emergency surgeries," I protested, trying to make him understand my limits.

"Martha went home two hours ago," he replied, not slowing down for a second.

That made me stop in my tracks. "What? Martha went home two hours ago?" I almost shouted. The last time I saw her, she had just started her shift.

That could only mean one thing—I had slept for over eight hours. I couldn't even form words before Dr. Rochefort grabbed me again. "We don't have a choice. You're assisting with this surgery, whether you're ready or not," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

I was doomed. My life is officially declared over. 

He explained the goals of the surgery—something about controlling symptoms, relieving compression, and restoring the normal flow of cerebrospinal fluid—but I barely heard him. My hands were sweating, and my heart was racing as we prepared for the operation.

The next four hours in the operating room were a blur of stress and exhaustion. By the time we finished, I was drenched in sweat, barely able to breathe. My body was so fatigued that I felt like I might collapse right there.

"You did better than I expected," Dr. Rochefort said, walking past me to wash his hands. Better than expected? BETTER THAN EXPECTED? I was on the brink of dying and I did better than expected. I wish I could resign this stupid job!!

I took a deep breath and followed him to the sink, washing my hands in silence while anger was boiling inside. I want to strangle this man so badly. I wish someone would just push him off the stairs or something. 

"You should go home. You look tired," he added, and though it was a simple statement, it was surprisingly comforting coming from him. 

I quickly got dressed, eager to get out of the hospital. On my way to the subway station, I heard a car honking behind me. When I turned around, I saw a sleek black Porsche approaching. Dr. Rochefort rolled down the window and smiled—an expression that startled me more than anything else.

"Get in. I'll drive you home," he offered, his tone oddly pleasant.

Uh, no. That was my immediate thought.

"Thanks, but I'll take the subway. Wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea about us," I said, waving him off and walking away.

Maybe I was being disrespectful, but I didn't care. There was no way I was getting involved with a rich, arrogant doctor like him.

When I finally got home, the smell of dinner greeted me as I walked through the door.

"Ahhhh, it smells so good!" I flopped onto the couch and grabbed the remote, ready to unwind with Netflix after the day I'd had. It's almost time for my yearly rewatch of The Gilmore girls. 

After a nice dinner with Dad, we chatted for a bit before I retreated to my room to relax. I watched more Netflix on my laptop until it was around 1 a.m. when I decided it was time to sleep. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't.

Feeling restless, I grabbed an old scrapbook from my desk and started flipping through it. It was filled with photos from my childhood—mostly of me and my sister, Rowan. It's been nearly ten years since I last saw her or my mom, and as I looked at the pictures, I felt my eyes begin to water.

Suddenly, a wave of sadness hit me. When I was younger, I resented my mom for how everything had fallen apart, but now that I'm older, I can see how hard she tried for us. She just couldn't hold it together forever. I can only hope that she and Rowan are happy wherever they are. It's been a decade since we had any contact. The last I heard, Mom had remarried and moved to LA, but that's all I know. There's no way I could find them now.

Wait... maybe there *is* a way.

An idea hit me, and I rushed over to my desk and grabbed my laptop. It sounds stupid, but I'd never thought to search for them on Facebook before.

I typed "Rowan Sterling" into the search bar but found nothing. Then I tried "Katie Sterling and even Katherine Sterling," but again, no results. Of course, my mom probably changed her last name after remarrying. I even tried her maiden name, "Katie Weston," but still nothing.

Frustrated, I closed the laptop and sighed. I guess some things are just meant to stay out of reach.