The rain started not long after dinner. A steady drizzle tapped gently against the wide bay windows of Alexandra's room, painting blurred trails down the glass like watery fingers tracing the edges of memory. She hadn't turned on the lights yet. The soft amber glow of the hallway spilled faintly into the room through the slightly ajar door, casting elongated shadows across her old bookshelf and dresser. It had been a long time since she'd looked at this room and truly seen it.
She sat at her desk, legs crossed beneath her, eyes fixed on the thick envelope now lying in front of her like a quiet ghost from the past. The letters had long since been read and returned to the envelope, their weight heavier now than before she'd touched them. In the corner, her phone blinked once with a low battery warning. She hadn't charged it yet. She hadn't moved.
Twelve years was a long time to carry silence. Twelve years of pretending it had never mattered.
Downstairs, she could hear the murmur of voices—Evelyn fussing about Alexandra's outburst, Vincent offering short reassurances, and Silvia's dry, amused commentary cutting through the concern like butter through warm toast. Alexandra couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but she imagined Silvia saying something like "She's grown, let her be," followed by Evelyn's sigh and Vincent's diplomatic attempt to change the subject.
She knew she should go down and apologize. But the truth was, part of her wasn't sorry. She was tired—tired of expectations dressed up as concern, tired of every well-meaning attempt to shape her life into something more palatable, more traditional.
Her fingers ran absently over the edge of the envelope before she slipped it back into the drawer and stood up.
It was time.
She reached for her suitcase and pulled out a slim folder from the side pocket—her application papers for the public hospital's transfer process. Her resignation letter had been formally accepted in Singapore two weeks ago. Her colleagues had sent her off with hugs and promises to visit, assuming she was taking a well-deserved sabbatical. None of them knew she was jumping headfirst into what many considered a career suicide: trading a prestigious private practice for an underfunded, overstretched public institution.
Alexandra placed the folder into her leather tote bag and zipped it up. Tomorrow, she'd start the hiring process in person. A full orientation, interviews with the department heads, paperwork, and—if all went well—a contract by the end of the week.
And all of it done in silence. Her family would know when they needed to. Not a moment before.
She stepped into the hallway quietly, passing by Vincent and Silvia's room where the light was still on. A muffled laugh drifted through the door—Silvia, most likely—and Alexandra smiled despite herself. Her brother was lucky. Silvia wasn't the traditional kind of wife their parents had envisioned, but she was exactly what Vincent needed: a woman who didn't flinch at confrontation, who had built her name in law without favors or shortcuts. A self-made storm in heels.
Downstairs, the kitchen light was still on. Alexandra padded in barefoot, made herself a cup of warm water, and stood by the window. The house was quiet now. Her father must have retired for the night, and Evelyn, for all her fire at dinner, was usually the first one in bed.
The weight of the evening pressed against her ribs.
She took a sip and leaned on the counter, closing her eyes briefly. Outside, the rain had eased into a soft mist, coating the garden in a silvery sheen. Everything smelled of earth and memory.
Her phone buzzed weakly in her pocket.
1% battery remaining.
Damn it. I still haven't plugged this in.
With a soft sigh, she returned upstairs, plugged it into the charger, and let it rest on the nightstand while she curled beneath her covers. But sleep, as it often did lately, proved elusive.
It was the memory.
Not just the letters. Not just Aria Reid's voice calling her pathetic over the phone. It was the feeling of helplessness that had clung to her back like a second skin ever since.
She had believed in something back then—so fully, so innocently. And Damien… well, he had never said a word. Never showed up. Never corrected the lie.
Was it even a lie?
Alexandra rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, heart quietly pounding.
Would she see him again now that she was back?
She didn't even know if he was still in the country, let alone in the same city. But some part of her, foolish or not, believed she would. Eventually. The universe loved to play cruel little jokes like that.
And she wasn't that naive girl anymore. She is Ling Yaxuan now. Doctor. Woman. Not some heart-on-sleeve teenager waiting in a school courtyard for a boy who never came.
She turned over and pulled the covers tighter.
Tomorrow was a new beginning.
—
The morning sun filtered in through the gauzy curtains of Alexandra's old bedroom, the familiar scent of jasmine and aged wood wrapping around her like a memory. She had barely slept, her mind replaying the events of last night—the dinner, the argument with her father, the envelope of old letters, and the sting of a humiliation that had never quite faded.
But today, she had her own plans.
She got dressed quietly, a soft cream blouse tucked into tailored navy trousers, a structured coat slung over one arm. She tied her hair into a loose low bun and skipped breakfast, slipping out of the house with a quietness born of practice.
The taxi ride to the hospital took less than twenty minutes. Outside the window, the city she had left behind twelve years ago seemed both new and old. Buildings had grown taller, signs brighter, but the streets still held echoes of her childhood.
When the cab pulled up to the hospital, Alexandra stepped out and took in the sight.
It looked exactly as the online reviews and urban legends had described, tired.
The linoleum floors were scuffed beyond redemption, the paint peeling just enough to be artistic if you squint hard enough, and the nurse at the front desk looked like she hadn't slept since 2019.
Still, Alexandra approached the desk with poise and the kind of polite smile that said, No, I'm not lost. Yes, I'm here on purpose.
"Hi, I'm here to begin the transfer process. Dr. Ling Alexandra Yaxuan," she said, sliding her neatly prepared folder forward like she was handing over a bribe in a political drama.
The nurse barely glanced up. "Transfer?"
Alexandra nodded.
"You sure?" the nurse deadpanned.
Alexandra blinked. "Pardon?"
The nurse finally looked up at her, eyeing her crisp blouse, expensive coat, and generally well-fed aura. "Just... most people try to transfer out of here."
Alexandra smiled. "I've always liked a challenge."
The nurse snorted and picked up the phone. "Alright then, Miss Overachiever. Second floor. Room 204. Admin's expecting you."
Room 204 looked like someone had repurposed an old storage closet into an office, then lost interest halfway through. The fluorescent lights flickered like they were considering retirement, and the fan oscillated with the enthusiasm of a bored sloth.
Behind the desk sat a woman with glasses perched on her nose and the general expression of someone who had seen too much.
"Dr. Ling," she said without rising. "Take a seat. Try not to trip over the chair leg. It bites."
Alexandra raised an eyebrow but complied, carefully maneuvering around the squeaky metal chair that did, in fact, snap violently as it settled.
"You're from Singapore," the woman said, flipping through the file. "Private hospital. Good reputation. Clean facilities. Michelin-starred cafeteria."
"Two stars," Alexandra corrected mildly.
The woman gave her a long look. "And you want to work here. Where our coffee machine has been broken since the Obama administration and the air-conditioning wheezes like it's chain-smoking."
"Yes."
The woman blinked. "Why?"
"I want to be somewhere I'm needed. Not just somewhere that looks good on paper."
The administrator tilted her head. "That's noble. Slightly delusional. But noble."
Alexandra smiled. "I've been called worse."
The administrator leaned back and clasped her hands. "You'll need to meet with the head of internal medicine tomorrow. We'll also need you to shadow a few shifts before we finalize the contract. You'll be... evaluated."
"Sounds fair."
"Your family aware of this decision?"
"They think I'm catching up with old friends."
The woman gave a knowing snort. "Ah. The classic 'I'm not quitting medicine, I'm networking.' Move."
Alexandra chuckled.
The administrator handed her a clipboard stacked with forms and a pen with suspicious bite marks on the cap. "Fill these out. Pray over them if you believe in anything. And don't let the elevator trap you on your way out…it does that sometimes."
Alexandra took the clipboard with a nod, already feeling the strangely comforting chaos of the place wrap around her like a second skin. It was disorganized. Understaffed. A little unhinged.
But it was real.
And after years of perfect corridors and curated success stories, Alexandra Ling was more than ready to get her hands dirty.