She began making her way around the room, personally thanking the guests for coming. As she navigated the tables, she turned her head toward the darkened corner where I stood.
She offered a polite, practiced smile.
But as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, the smile on her lips didn’t just fade; it completely froze.
Her gaze didn’t meet my face. It dropped down, locking with laser-like intensity onto my right hand, which was holding the glass of soda. Specifically, her eyes fixed on the heavy, gold Johns Hopkins Medical School class ring gleaming on my middle finger—a ring I wore not for vanity, but as a reminder of everything I had survived.
Elena stopped walking. The polite hostess persona vanished, replaced by an expression of profound, absolute shock.
Chapter 2: The Miracle Doctor
“Elena? What’s wrong, babe?”
Tyler had noticed her sudden halt. He approached her from behind, placing a proprietary, manicured hand on her bare shoulder. “Are you feeling dizzy? Do you need to sit down?”
Elena didn’t answer him. She didn’t even seem to register his presence. She brushed his hand off her shoulder with a sharp, unconscious movement that made Tyler blink in surprise.
She took a step toward me. Then another. Her long strides ate up the distance between the brightly lit center of the room and my shadowed corner. The rhythmic click-clack of her expensive heels against the hardwood floor seemed to cut through the ambient noise, drawing the curious stares of the nearby guests.
