Zoe and I were in the same car crash. But my boyfriend, the head of orthopedic surgery, shoved my hand away. “Lesley, stop being so dramatic! Zoe needs surgery, now!” And so, I was the one left to die. The day my skeleton was donated to Dr. Iain Shaw’s department, he locked himself in his office for a full day and night. After that, the most brilliant surgeon at Riverside General never held a scalpel again. 1 The lights in the hospital room swam before my eyes, a blurry, nauseating dance. Through the haze, I saw a figure in a white coat rush in. "Dr. Shaw," a voice said, breathless. "We've got an opening in the OR. Who goes first?" I reached out, my fingers weakly pinching the corner of Iain’s coat. I tried to give it a tug, but he just glanced down at me, his brow furrowed. I couldn't quite make out his expression. From the next bed, Zoe’s soft sobs started up again. "Iain… oh, Iain, am I going to be crippled? Will it leave a scar?" Without a moment's hesitation, Iain pried my fingers off his coat. "Lesley, you just have a few scratches. A local anesthetic is all you'll need. Zoe's fracture is critical, can you please stop making a scene?" My head was spinning, a dizzying vortex of pain and confusion. I watched him turn all his attention to Zoe, his voice a gentle balm, without sparing me so much as a second glance. I tried to speak, but my lips felt heavy and useless. I’m not making a scene, Iain, I wanted to scream. I really can’t remember how Zoe got hurt. I never hurt her, why won’t you ever believe me? I can walk away, you know. I’m not that pathetic. …Iain, please, just look at me? But he was already motioning for the orderlies, helping them move Zoe’s gurney out of the room. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels echoed down the long, sterile corridor of the evening, each sound a nail driving into my ears. He never once looked back. 2 Beeeeeeep— As the heart monitor flatlined into a single, piercing tone, my soul untethered itself, drifting upward. I saw a nurse shout for the on-call doctor as she sprinted toward my room with the crash cart. A pang of guilt hit me. Sorry about that. I know the paperwork for a death report is a nightmare. Now you have to write another one because of me. Floating higher, I passed through the ceiling and into the operating room. Iain was just finishing his scrub, pulling on a pair of sterile gloves. After all our recent fighting, I finally had a moment to really look at the man I’d loved for seven years. Objectively, Iain Shaw was devastatingly handsome. It was the sharp, intense focus in his eyes as he made an incision during a university lab that had first captivated me, that had made me decide to pursue him. Who knew he came with a childhood sweetheart attached? I drifted behind him and poked at his back. "You know, I had plenty of guys after me, too. If you had just told me about her sooner, I wouldn't have been so set on you." He couldn't hear me, of course. He turned, his gloved hands ready, and walked straight through my spectral form. The sensation sent a jolt through me. I almost shot back a sarcastic comment, but then my ghostly shoulders slumped. What was the point? He couldn’t hear me anyway. The heavy lead door swished open, and a circulating nurse entered, phone in hand. "Dr. Shaw, a call from downstairs. They're in the middle of a code in your department. They're asking if you want to come down." Iain didn’t even pause as he tied his surgical gown. "Tell them to handle it. Can't you see I'm scrubbed in?" I sighed. That was Iain for you. The surgery was his temple, and everything else was sacrilege. Still, I wished he’d make an exception today. After all, the person they were coding was me—his girlfriend. Then I glanced at Zoe’s pale face on the operating table, and my certainty wavered. Between a dead me and a living Zoe, it was anyone’s guess who mattered more to him. Zoe’s fracture was complex, and my resuscitation wasn’t going well. As Iain frowned, meticulously piecing together bone fragments, the lead door opened a second time. "Dr. Shaw, they're on the line again. They're requesting Dr. Peterson for an intubation on the code." The OR was its own social hierarchy. A surgeon as skilled as Iain was always paired with the best, and Dr. Peterson was the top anesthesiologist in the hospital. As a disembodied soul, I could guess what that meant: my condition was critical, so they were calling in the big guns. But Iain refused again. "I don't switch anesthesiologists mid-op." Right. Of course. Zoe's surgery was the most important thing in the world. More important than my life. I was starting to get angry. I floated in front of him and made a face. The third time the door opened, Zoe's surgery was finally taking shape. "Dr. Shaw, they've been doing compressions for half an hour. They want to know if they should continue." Iain slammed a surgical drill onto the instrument tray, his patience finally snapping. "Are you people clueless? Half an hour? Tell the family to make the call! If it were up to me, I'd stop right now!" I found myself nodding in grim agreement. A doctor couldn’t make that call; only next of kin could. From a purely medical standpoint, after thirty minutes of CPR, my chances were practically zero. Besides, who, other than your most beloved family, would exhaust every resource just for the slimmest hope of a miracle? 3 Zoe’s surgery finished in the dead of night. For some reason, I wasn't following my own body. Instead, I found myself tethered to Iain, unable to move more than a few feet away from him. He seemed to have completely forgotten about me. He waited in the recovery room for two hours until Zoe was fully awake, then went with her back to her room. He personally lifted her onto the bed, fluffed her pillow, and waited for the nurse to hang her IV drip before he finally glanced toward my empty bed. "Where's Lesley?" The nurse flinched, seemingly caught off guard by his calm demeanor. She chose her words carefully. "Her mother picked her up earlier this evening." Iain just nodded, saying nothing more. A moment later, I saw him walk to the window and pull out his phone. The contact name on the screen read: "Wifey." He hesitated, his long, elegant fingers hovering over the call button. Just as he was about to press it, Zoe’s voice came from behind him. She was sitting up in bed, her face pale, anxiously wringing her hands. "Iain," she said, her voice thin and reedy, "maybe you should call Lesley… I’m sure she didn’t realize pushing me would hurt me this badly." Iain froze. His gaze flickered to Zoe's bandaged leg, a flash of anger in his eyes. Then, he navigated away from the call screen and put his phone away. He walked back to her bedside and gently stroked her hair, his voice once again a vessel of pure tenderness. "There's no need. After what she did to you, she needs a few days to herself to think about what she's done." Excuse me? I wanted to laugh. If I could touch him, I would have kicked him right then and there. Wrong? What did I do wrong? I pushed her out of the way of a speeding motorcycle! I saved her life! Did he not see the gash on my head where I hit the pavement? The one that caused the fatal brain bleed? When I first woke up, the trauma made me forget. But now that I'm dead, I remember everything! But then, a wave of resignation washed over me. What good would it have done if I’d remembered then? He wouldn't have believed me anyway. Iain stayed by Zoe’s bedside all night. The next morning, when he emerged from her room for rounds, the other staff members stared at him, exchanging uneasy glances. The resident he was closest with finally ventured a question. "Dr. Shaw… your girlfriend… aren't you going to go see her?" Iain waved a dismissive hand, clearly annoyed at the mention of my name. "It doesn't matter. It was nothing serious." With the boss having spoken, no one else dared to say a word. But as they followed him on his rounds, I heard a young female intern mutter, "I never would've guessed. Dr. Shaw is completely heartless." I floated beside her and smirked. Oh, he wasn't heartless. Not at all. When the team arrived at Zoe's room, Iain’s entire demeanor softened. His brow smoothed, and a gentle expression took over his features. "I'll handle this patient's dressing changes myself. A girl like her can't have any scars." I glanced back at the intern who had just criticized him. Her jaw was on the floor. See? Now you get it. When it came to Zoe, he was a completely different person. 4 My mother’s call came while Iain was peeling an apple for Zoe. Mom’s voice, crackling through the phone, sounded exhausted. It filled me with a dull ache. "Iain, aren't you coming to see Lesley?" Iain set the knife down, his tone becoming much more respectful. "Auntie, Zoe’s leg is still broken, I can't really leave her right now. You…" Suddenly, my mother’s voice became sharp, piercing. "She can't be left alone? Then did you know that Lesley was pregnant? She was carrying your child!" Iain’s eyes widened. His hand tightened around the phone. Before he could speak, my mother’s voice broke into sobs. "What am I even saying this to you for? It doesn't matter anymore… the person is gone… Iain, just stay with your precious Zoe! We're done. Don't ever contact us again." The line went dead. I desperately wanted to dive into the phone, to tell my mom I was right here. I didn’t know how I’d left the hospital last night, but I knew she must be heartbroken. I tried to press the redial button on Iain's phone, but my ghostly fingers passed through it again and again. A soul can’t cry. Mom, please don't cry. I'm right here. Don't fall apart. Iain was still frozen, clutching the phone. I wanted to shake him, to scream at him. Iain, are you an idiot? Call my mother back! Go see her! Is she okay? "What does she mean… gone?" He mumbled the words to himself, then, as if a switch had been flipped, he bolted from the room. He stormed into the doctors' lounge and slammed his palm on the desk of Dr. Miller, the resident who had been on my resuscitation team. His voice trembled. "Miller, you were on duty last night. Did you treat Lesley's injuries?" Dr. Miller looked up at Iain’s bloodshot eyes, stunned. "Dr. Shaw… you…" "I'm asking you, did she have a miscarriage?" Iain's voice rose to a shout, startling the young doctor. "Dr. Shaw, my condolences… We didn't even know she was pregnant until the very end…" Iain staggered back, all the strength seeming to drain from his body. He ripped off his white coat and turned to leave. I floated beside him, urging him on. Hurry up! Faster! Go check on my mom! The elevator arrived. I was ready to go in with him, but Iain just stood there, motionless. I followed his gaze. Zoe, somehow, had dragged her broken leg out of her room and was crawling on the floor toward him. It was over. We weren't getting in that elevator. Sure enough, the doors closed and the elevator descended without him. Iain turned back, scooped Zoe into his arms, and carried her back to her bed. Zoe trembled in his embrace, her eyes glistening with tears. "Iain, did something happen to Lesley? I'm so sorry… I saw her buying abortion pills once… It's all my fault… If my leg wasn’t broken, I would have told you sooner." Zoe kept talking, but Iain had gone rigid. His eyes were red-rimmed as he sank back into the chair by her bed. He covered his face with his hands, and after a long moment, his voice came out, raw and hoarse.
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