She wiped the sweat from her brow, exhaling as she stepped away from the latest patient. The ER had finally started to settle—most of the critically injured stabilized, others sent to surgery. But as she turned, another stretcher was wheeled in.
A woman. Heavily pregnant. Pale. Blood soaked through her dress, pooling beneath her.
Wilson's stomach clenched.
"BP 60/40, severe abdominal pain," the nurse reported.
Placental abruption.
Wilson moved quickly, assessing the damage. The baby was still alive, but the mother… she was fading.
"Get OB down here now!" she ordered.
The woman's eyelids fluttered, her breathing ragged. "Doctor…"
Wilson leaned in. "You need surgery. We're going to do everything we can—"
The woman gripped Wilson's wrist weakly. "Don't… don't let my baby die."
"You and your baby will be fine," Wilson assured her, though the odds were terrifying.
The woman's lips trembled. "No… I won't make it." Her eyes searched Wilson's face, desperate. "Promise me… take care of my baby."
Wilson froze. "Your family—?"
The woman shook her head weakly. "No one. I have no one. I was…" She swallowed. "Raped… nine months ago. On the streets. This baby… this baby is all I have."
Silence fell over the ER. The doctors and nurses around them had stopped moving, all eyes on Wilson.
The woman squeezed her hand. "Please."
Wilson's chest tightened. She had spent her whole life avoiding attachments, keeping people at a distance. She was a surgeon, not a mother.
But the way everyone looked at her—waiting, hoping—she knew they saw her as the only one strong enough to do this.
Wilson swallowed. She didn't know if she could love a child. But she knew she couldn't let this woman die in fear.
So she nodded.
"I'll take care of your baby," she whispered.
The woman exhaled in relief, tears slipping down her face.
Wilson watched as the team rushed her to the OR, her heart feeling heavier than it ever had before.
She had just made a promise that would change her life.
And she had no idea what to do next.
WILSON VISITS STELLA
Wilson stood outside Stella's room, her hands resting at her sides. She had faced countless surgeries, made life-or-death decisions in seconds, but standing here felt harder than any of them.
After everything—saving Stella's life, the chaos in the ER, the dying woman's desperate plea—she should be exhausted. But she wasn't, she was more alert than she has ever been.
Because now, Stella was awake.
She inhaled sharply and pushed the door open.
Stella was right there, staring blankly at the ceiling. The bruises on her face had darkened,and her hazel eyes were sharp and alert. When she turned her head and saw Wilson, something flickered across her face—recognition, curiosity.
Wilson stepped inside, her voice steadier than she felt. "You're awake. Most patients don't wake up this fast."
A small smirk played on Stella's lips. "Yeah… figured I should come back before you had a breakdown trying to save me."
A heavy weight settled in Wilson's chest. The same teasing tone. The same confidence. Even now.
She ignored the warmth creeping up her neck and walked to the side of the bed, checking the IV. "You had internal bleeding. We had to remove your spleen."
"That explains why I feel like I got hit by a truck rather than a minibus."
Wilson paused, her voice softer. "You… almost did."
Stella frowned slightly. Then, as if piecing things together, she sighed. "Right."
Silence settled between them. Wilson should leave—she had done her job. But she didn't move.
Then Stella spoke again, softer this time. "I know you."
Wilson's breath caught.
Stella studied her. "I saw your name on my chart. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. Then I remembered—St. Jones Girls High School. You were there, weren't you?"
Wilson's fingers curled slightly against her palm. "Yes."
"You were… quiet," Stella said, her eyes searching Wilson's face. "But you were always there."
Wilson's pulse quickened. Did she really remember?
Stella exhaled, shifting slightly. "I remember you helped me once. I dropped my books at the library, and before I could pick them up, you had already stacked them neatly and walked away like nothing happened"
Wilson swallowed. She remembered that?
Stella smiled weakly. "I always wondered why you never talked to me."
Wilson's throat went dry. She had spent years avoiding that answer, whenever she asked herself.
And now, as she stood in front of the girl she had never confessed to, she realized—maybe it was time to stop running.
Wilson forced herself to keep her expression neutral, but her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of Stella's chart.
"You had major surgery, hours ago ," she said, her tone more clinical than she intended. "You shouldn't be talking too much."
Stella let out a soft chuckle, but even that seemed to drain her. "Trust me, I wish I could shut up for one's in my entire life." Her voice dropped slightly, playful but tired. "You didn't answer my question."
Wilson glanced at the IV line, pretending to check the flow.
"Why didn't I talk to you?" The real answer sat heavy on her tongue, but she swallowed it down.
Instead, she asked, "Are your parents on their way?"
Stella blinked at her, surprised by the change in topic. For a second, Wilson thought she might push further, but then Stella sighed. "Probably. I haven't checked my phone, but they're never far when something like this happens."
Wilson gave a slow nod. Of course. The Edwards had always been protective of their only daughter. Even back in high school, she remembered seeing their expensive cars pull up during visiting days and they always looked like they were never going to let her go. Stella had always been surrounded by people, always in a world Wilson had no part of.
And yet, here they were.
"I'm sure they'll be relieved to see you awake," Wilson said, keeping her voice professional.
Stella smirked slightly, though it lacked her usual confidence. "You say that like you know them."
Wilson looked into the chart. How was she going to know, She had spent years knowing who Stella was, knowing her family, her world—while Stella had barely noticed her existence. It shouldn't sting.
She cleared her throat, stepping back slightly. "I should check on my other patients."
Stella's eyes lingered on her, thoughtful. "You should," she agreed, but something in her gaze made Wilson feel like she wasn't off the hook just yet.
Wilson turned quickly, gripping the door handle. But just as she was about to step out, Stella spoke again, voice more softer this time.
"Wilson?"
She paused.
"…Thanks. For saving me."
Wilson exhaled, gripping the handle a little tighter before forcing herself to look back.
She met Stella's eyes and gave a small nod. "It's my job."
Then she walked out before she could say anything else. Because if she stayed any longer, Stella might start to see the truth in her eyes.
And Wilson wasn't ready for that.