Chapter 6
he rain drenched me until I could barely feel my own skin. Every drop felt like needles.
A car slowed behind me. My shoulders stiffened. At this hour, in this place, no good thing came from a car stopping.
The tinted window slid down, revealing a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed French-cut beard.
He leaned slightly toward me, eyes narrowing. “Who are you? What are you doing out here?”
Anyone would wonder. I was soaked to the bone.
“I’m a doctor,” I answered quickly, pointing toward the small building that was my clinic.
His eyes followed my gesture. For a moment, suspicion lingered, then his expression softened. “A doctor,” he repeated, his tone almost warm now. “Do you need a ride? This rain’s not going to stop tonight.” He glanced at the sky.
I shook my head, rising to my feet, the ruined bills still heavy in my thoughts. “No, thank you, sir.”
But the man didn’t press. His voice gentled instead, almost coaxing. “Don’t worry. No one will harm you here. This is my region. Think of me as a father.”
“No, sir,” I said quietly, clinging to formality, to distance. “I’ll find a taxi. I have errands.”
His laugh was low, knowing. “You must be new here. There’s no chance you’ll get a cab tonight.”
The passenger door swung open. My phone was still in my pocket, low battery but enough to call for help if I needed to. Against better judgment, I slid in.
The ride was silent. He didn’t ask me anything, didn’t even glance my way. Just scrolled through his phone while the car glided through the streets.
In no time, we pulled up at my apartment. I stepped out quickly, the relief sharp in my chest. “Thank you, sir,” I said softly.
He reached into his wallet, pulled out a card—black with a red pigeon stamped across it. Mysterious. Ominous. “Keep this,” he said, pressing it into my hand. “It’ll help you.”
Then the car vanished into the rain.
I turned the card over in my hand. Heavy. Strange. But I slipped it into my purse anyway. Maybe he really was a good man.
When I entered the apartment, the sight that greeted me pulled at my heart. Ria was already asleep on the couch, Stella curled in her arms. My little girl. My baby. A pang of guilt tore through me.
“A few more nights like this, Genevieve,” Ria murmured when she stirred awake, smiling, “and your daughter will start calling me mama.”
I forced a smile back, though guilt clung to my ribs. She wasn’t wrong.
We had dinner together, laughing over school memories, silly college gossip. For a while, it felt almost normal.
Then Ria pulled out an envelope and slid it toward me. “Guess who’s getting married? Miley.”
My hands trembled as I opened it. The groom’s name wasn’t Felix. It was Ricky.
“Miley’s marriage?” My voice came out flat.
“Yeah. She broke up with Felix months ago. This is someone else we don’t even know.”
The words blurred. My chest tightened as everything came rushing back—Felix’s betrayal, the night I ran, the vodka burning my throat, the stranger who had crushed me under his weight until I could barely breathe.
And the child that came from it. Stella. Sleeping innocently just a few feet away.
“Why don’t you and Felix patch things up?” Ria asked suddenly. “The road is clear now. He even asked about you once, last year.”
Once. Once was enough. Once had destroyed me. Once had rewritten my life.
I pushed my plate away, the food tasteless in my mouth. “I’ve got an interview tomorrow. I need to rest.”
And I walked away before my silence gave me away.
As I lay on the bed, my eyes drifted to my wrist. It was still red, faint marks pressed into my skin where his fingers had clutched me.
That man… the one in the clinic.
Would he be okay?
The memory replayed in my head. I had just pulled away, ready to leave, when his hand shot out and caught me. His grip was strong, desperate—yet trembling.
“Don’t leave…” he had whispered.
I stayed. Longer than I ever stayed with any patient. Longer than I should have.
Now, even in the silence of my room, I could still feel the weight of his touch.
Who was he?
And why had someone stabbed him?
The next morning, I left early for the hospital near R.P. Road, ready to split myself between my clinic and this new job. Every hour mattered.
Because breaking wasn’t an option anymore.
I arrived at the hospital on time, my heart thudding like a drum inside my chest. When my name was called, I pushed the door open and froze.
The man behind the desk wasn’t the gray-haired professor I expected. He was young—my age, maybe a little older. Clean-cut, sharp jawline, confidence in the way he leaned back in his chair. His nameplate read: Dr. Hector Alvarez.
So this was the senior?
I forced a smile, trying to hide the panic fluttering inside me. “Good morning. I’m Genevieve Carter. I studied medicine in Ukraine, and… I’ve only just returned a few days ago.”
I told him everything—well, almost everything. The two-year gap in my degree was my greatest shame, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he asked—
“Your grades are excellent,” he said, scanning my file. “But why the two-year gap?”
The question hit like a hammer. My throat tightened. Behind him, a poster of smiling babies hung on the wall, and all I could see was Stella’s face—tiny, helpless, mine.
“My sister passed away,” I said softly, the lie rolling off my tongue as smooth as it always did. “Her daughter was a newborn. I had to step in.”
Hector looked up, his eyes lingering on me. He didn’t pry. Instead, he leaned forward, his expression unexpectedly gentle.
“You’re hired,” he said simply. “You can start today.”
Relief washed over me, though a knot of disappointment twisted in my stomach. I had hoped for an older mentor, someone seasoned, someone I could learn from. But Hector wasn’t inexperienced—he carried himself with quiet authority. Maybe he had more to teach me than I realized.
The day blurred by in a rush of patients, files, and nerves. When my shift ended, I was halfway to the exit when Hector’s voice stopped me.
“Dr. Carter. My office.”
I hesitated. Everything had already been discussed in the morning. Why call me back? Still, I went.
He slid a pamphlet across the desk. Bright letters read: Free Health Check-Up Program for Orphan Kids.
“Our hospital’s running this program,” Hector explained. “We’ll be visiting the orphanage next week. I want you to be part of it.”
“Yes,” I said quickly. “I’d love to.”